Kestsueki, Sakura, Yuki
by StormAngel Kiroko
Summary: 100 Years after... I don't wanna give anything away here, but it's supposed to be pretty. Gothic... A little update ^_^
1. Blossom

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Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, just pull the strings baby. (Hell, I don't own anything… pity me, don't sue me.) For you shall never get your hands on my Manga collection. And if you happen to be from Square… I draw pretty; can I have a job? …Thankyou.

Pointless but obligatory warning: Violence = shed loads. Shounen-ai = er, I'm not telling? Yaoi = It's a surprise. Spoilers = Horrible, early nineties, in the same league as fluffy dice when not gracing a Viper. References = if you haven't played the game, why are you here? This contains bad poetry, mixed metaphors, obscure Japanese idioms and naughty language. Read at your own peril, for your own good, and with the light turned on. 

All references, Japanese and other junk could well be explained, eventually, if I can be bothered.

****

Ketsueki, Sakura, Yuki 

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Koibito… Hihou, sasayaki to aenaku… 

Our hearts, our hearts

We tore apart

In mutual pain and shared despair.

I died with you, but kept his soul

For hope, for us, he helped me through.

But he has gone

With his fair rose

In my recall last purpose lay,

For I regained my seraph self

The night I liberated you.

And of her dreams 

I hold the shade.

Behind the veil of lies, she saw.

But life is short for martyrs. Aye,

And sadly, death rejects we two.

My childhood's dance,

False past unmasked,

My Lady of the Garnet Eyes

Is long since passed, and of our child,

Upon my wings of black she flew.

Alone, Alone

I journey on,

Through icy eyes, I see my doom. 

Our future I devise, once more,

The contract signed in blood long due.

****

…Aishiteru 

//~*~ An Angel's Whisper. ~*~//

//By Me!// //Like anyone would wanna pinch it anyhow…?//

****

Prologue 

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You cannot put the Blossom back on the branch…

It was another bitterly cold night, as many were, hidden deep between the bleak spires of rock that encircled this town like a prison of thorns. 

Around the huddled rustic buildings weak candle lamps rocked ruefully from their posts, their chains all in shrieking disharmony. But such tiny flames cast little illumination across the mountains' black fingers as they strained, unendingly, to grasp at the full silver moon. In return, it enticed the dying stone with what it craved and devoured, teasing pure but borrowed light across the hellish claws. 

Thus, the ground was washed in silver and midnight, painted with the torn shadows of petrified, brittle trees that screamed like spirits in the mountain winds; mourning what piteous life was stolen from them so long ago. Between such claustrophobic stone walls, the sky at least was dazzling, but also unchanging, as always, in _his _presence. 

Stars glittered across the deep blue void in countless pinpricks of coloured light. And purple clouds, dark bruises, bloomed around the vicious, needle-like summit of Mt. Nibel.

Besides the wailing wind, one visiting soul weathered, with typical composure, the constant rattle of the mansion gate crashing against the wall, pulling on ancient oilless hinges. As he slipped through the rotting iron portal, he paused briefly to mark the distant lament of a wolf, which echoed almost sympathetically to another, closer, sobbing. It was the sound he was also drawn inexorably towards. For somewhere in the graveyard garden of the Mansion, something, someone, was crying. A soft voice that drifted incongruously through the forest of ivy draped gravestones. 

Most found it hard to believe that this place had not always been a graveyard; although it's position in the town had been a crypt even before the construction of the Mansion. It seemed this place was a magnet for the inhuman. It was a ghost town, nightmare by its very nature the gatehouse of Hades' Palace. Still, he had returned, and with a purpose. Passing through the garden, the dark figure paused occasionally to read an inscription with cold detachment. Though he was long past mourning for anyone in this world, it was obvious why another found sorrow at the sight, for the soul he sought would weep for the dead; would weep for lost love, in innocence until the day the planet died. Turning, the visitor confirmed the source of the tears, and headed toward it with no further hesitation.

And as he expected, the shadow beneath one particularly ornate rood stirred in a way that would, perhaps, be imperceptible to any normal human as he approached. It sighed, and like an illusion, became a living creature. Curled around the engraved marble, the tiny wraith now sat and tangled roses so blood red they appeared black between long, elegant fingers. Pale arms draped lovingly around the plinth, perfect within their ornaments of bangles and bandages, and shimmering teardrops streaked the stone. 

Dark was certain; this was the one for whom he was searching.

"I was not sure that I would find you, until I saw the stars." Whispered the intruder, silently drifting among the skeletons of oak leaves to sit on the edge of a nearby grave, his metal clad boots quietly clinking as he folded long legs beneath a crimson cape. Head tilted in curiosity as he observed his friend, he found himself slowly succumbing to the sadness. It would be a mistake to do so, as it was a force far removed from simple human emotion. If a place had karma, this town was the black hole of despair.

The small figure sniffed, and nearly laughed in a half-hearted attempt to throw off melancholy. Still, there was no move to face the visitor. 

"I've been here long enough, …wasn't a secret." Replied a gentle young voice, unusually weary from crying. The sound was almost enough to break his heart, and still they sat unmoving for what seemed an age, silence falling like a shroud as the first few snowflakes drifted onto the carpet of leaves.

Eventually, the shadow unfurled, slowly unfolding itself, becoming a little more human. The black trenchcoat slid around a slender figure and fell around sturdy black boots as he stood, brushing dead leaves from the antique leather. Now, as the shadows fell from his shoulders, moonlight revealed a shock of frosted blond hair, pulled loosely into a ponytail that fell to his waist. Long, wild spikes framed his eternally youthful face, slightly feminine features sharp and prominent through delicate skin. In the moonlight, Light was abnormally and inhumanly beautiful. 

Iridescent blue eyes, soft now and slightly bloodshot from tears, sparkled behind long dark lashes as Light smiled hesitantly. Still, the sadness remained, like a veil that had become heavier with time. Something Dark himself had alluded to, though a thousand times less intense. And upon such a creature, he felt, it seemed so terribly wrong. He saw his own past shadows mirrored within, and his own humanity cowered at the sight. A dark mirror, embracing and protecting a million lost souls. This being was all those things, and that was terrifying to those who were not blind to the glamour of prevarication.

He could not help but stare, grateful for the long black tresses that obscured his own crimson gaze as the object of his attention, his appearance still barely more than eighteen years, casually slung a long white sword over his shoulder. Re-sheathing the slim double-edged blade. Then softly, silently, stepped between the stones, like a cat. 

"I'm …okay now," the boy whispered. The ghost of a smile passed across his features, but without touching his eyes. "I thank you for answering, Vincent Valentine."

Accepting the small shard of hope in those words, as a starving dog would snatch at the illusion of a bone Vincent nodded, his hair falling further across his face. He wouldn't dare to blink as a small, cold hand brushed away the ebon strands, gently tilting his chin upwards. Crimson eyes drifted towards blue, and for a moment he fancied himself able to see galaxies within.

"Why am I here?" He asked, his voice catching in his throat as embarrassment began to colour his pale skin. It was becoming easier to resist the urge to break their gaze, just to watch the patterns of light ripple across those deep blue pools while the boy read his every thought as if it were a murderer's confessional. 

"Everyone passes through here, sooner or later." The boy replied, then shrugged, moving away again and turning his back. 

Dropping his head further in a sudden consuming wave of shame, for his soul had been laid naked for that one moment and he feared what might have shown, Vincent was confused at such an indifferent reaction. He pulled himself out of his guilty muse as an odd thought struck him; his friend was not entirely serious. Strange, that he could usually read people so well but had never seen beneath the surface of those eyes, although this was a special case, admittedly. With all the swordsman's inherent unpredictability, his actions hid his thoughts well, and layered deception upon uncertainty. He was being foolish just to believe the child would reject him. He never hurt anyone, and seemed oblivious to the faults of others. 

It was obvious. He already knew anyway, why bother reacting.

"That is beside the point." Vincent replied, smiling beneath the edge of his collar. Oh, it had been such a very long time since he'd seen the boy, and already it seemed too long. "Why did I come here, to this place." 

Truly, of the entire planet, only Nibelheim was as desolate as this. The gate of hell itself, and its guardian was a child. Vincent had once 'lived' there, a long time ago, and it brought back a lot of memories. Most of them were not Kodak moments. Or even slightly pleasant, or on their way to being pleasant. This was not a pleasant town.

"I don't know, I can't force you to do anything," 

An answer, but not likely the last. Silence fell once again, simply to be broken by the clatter of zips and buckles, as a heavy boot sent pure, new snow billowing chaotically into the chilled air. A black and white cloud.

"But you may apply a peculiar gravity, and I have arrived." Vincent argued, his contemplation following the path of disturbed leaves. "Unfortunately a summons rarely reveals any intention beyond attendance. Cloud, if you need help…" 

Silently, Cloud stalked around the back of a statue, a stone angel whose features were amazingly unmarred by the oppression of time. He disappeared from view, and until the sound of rippling laughter drew Vincent's bemused stare upwards, it was as if he had never been there at all. Cradled between the carved stone wings, a seraph finally graced the vampire with an honest smile. 

"There is something I must do, for myself at last." Cloud sighed, his permanently bandaged hands languidly caressing the Grecian features of the marble angel. Nodding again, Vincent studied the sculpted mask himself and found it rather overshadowed. 

"Vincent, I just wondered if you would accompany me for a while. I think… I know, I will need someone beside me, and I once considered you among my closest friends." He admitted, turning serious and a little timid. "I still do."

His eyes, they never revealed a thing until that moment, reflecting everything in stars or snowflakes. But for a moment they became human, more than human, and so full of sadness even Vincent couldn't hope to hold their gaze.

Vincent pulled his cape tighter around his shoulders, feeling the chill wind now, as it whipped his long hair across his face. Unfolding his long legs, he dropped into the snow. He thought a little on this unexpected supplication, watching each snowflake as it fell. Cloud was seemingly unbothered by the weather, or his older companion's thoughtful silence, more enthralled by the patterns in the crystals. Each tiny flake was eliciting more emotion than he normally granted, his smile as innocent as a child's.

"Yes." Vincent replied, "It would be pleasant to keep your company for a while. Eternity is a lonely business, after all." 

Smiling again, in an odd, wise way that Vincent rarely ever saw, Cloud dropped lightly from his perch. "If only you knew, Vincent Valentine. Perhaps you should question yourself further before accepting my request." 

Vincent matched step as he began walking toward the gate, slightly bemused by his friend's statement, but unable to inquire further for fear of breaking the fragile mood. It did not matter for the time being, he'd long ago discovered that he would find out what he needed when it was important to know.

New snow crunched softly beneath two pairs of metal-soled boots, and began to take on a warm orange tint with the dawn. 


	2. Return to Life

Chapter 1 

Tachimodoru O Jinsei... 

Life is an ephemeral state, 

Full of holes, and tears and tears 

And yet death is the one they hate, 

Though solitude the cross he bears. 

You cry so softly for lost souls, 

In form, a mystery applied. 

Child, both at once, and yet, so cold, 

Love, I am always by your side. 

kindness lost, and truth mislaid, 

Desert, alone until we met. 

Yet life and death in you are made, 

And still we parted in regret. 

I sacrifice my life's despair, 

I come to find my heart, my soul, 

You mustn't fall for me, my friend, 

Unless you can let go. 

Roles are mistaken, or forgot 

I go to find my love, my mate 

And if I lead you on, blame not 

The one who cannot truly hate. 

//~*~ The Cruelty of Innocence ~*~// 

//By me, Again!// //If you can understand it... // 

They had been riding since daybreak, without rest or speech, since neither customarily felt the need for conversation. Indeed, Cloud appeared more than content simply to admire the forest scenery, his golden Chocobo floating gracefully amongst the brittle spring flowers. She barely disturbed a blade of grass as he rode ahead on a lingering, meandering, southeasterly course through the valley taken, most likely, to avoid any more quaint little pastoral towns. Vincent followed at a comfortable distance on his Black, Ukime, and though the mood remained solemn since they had passed Lucrecia's falls, it no longer wrenched at his heart to think of the place where she had withdrawn from the pain and guilt they shared. That which he had unfairly made his own, with her spirit, and in time unchained. She, as so many others, had returned to the stream of life. He told himself for the thousandth time; it was due in no small part to Lucrecia that the world was now so beautiful. 

His mind, despite the abundance of other stimuli to explore, wandered occasionally towards Cloud's earlier statement. In spite of the fact that it seemed he would not receive further enlightenment until the younger man was ready to explain and Cloud did not seem in the mood for debate. But it gnawed, in modest supplication, not to be ignored. For now, there was no choice but to forget. He sighed and gave in to the rhythm of his bird's hypnotic gait. 

The sun was glorious in its midday freedom as it melted the frost around them and sent cold water to drip randomly from tree branches. Glittering in the silver sky it constructed a world in crystal, jewelled with cut-glass rainbows. 

It was such a striking change to be away from the dead's dark ancestral home, to be in the peace and chaos of life once more. He almost missed the roar of rushing water and did not even notice that his companion had stopped and dismounted where the trail turned alongside Tears River, staring far into the distance. 

"I wonder, if anyone would recognise us anymore..." 

It was a wistful statement, directed to no one in particular and lost to the clamour of a thaw-swollen river. The swordsman crouched suddenly, dipping a hand into the icy water. Yet, his focus remained far away in the distant skyline. Trails from airplanes crossed the sparse patches of blue like old scars, the sky, so pale. 

How long had he been hidden in Nibelheim, waiting for the call... for the planet's affirmation. Hoping to finally be given the one small boon he'd requested. 

However, understanding intrinsically that the planet regarded time rather differently than it's little immigrant caretakers, it could take awhile to complete his request. He could wait; it had been a century since the arrangement was made. A century, alone, misunderstood in the company of well-meaning strangers. 

Vincent stood beside him, unable to descry what had caused the delay in their journey. He cast his enhanced gaze along the horizon, wincing at the brightness as it cut into his retinas. It was no use; he could see nothing in the light. He settled for a more indirect, but less painful approach. "Cloud, is something wrong?" 

"No, nothing, don't worry about it... I was just trying to spot the observatory," Cloud replied quietly, "and perhaps I should be asking the same of you." He admonished, turning to catch Vincent shading his oversensitive eyes. The dark man shook his head and simply pulled his red silk bandanna further down. 

"It's too bright even with this little snow, perhaps we should rest awhile. At least until noon has passed." He suggested, earning a surprised look from his fair friend. "We aren't all as young as we were." The handsome apparent twenty-something added with a smirk, revealing, to something other than prey for the first time in ages, a wicked set of fangs. 

"All right," Cloud agreed, taking the scabbard from around his shoulder and laying it against a young weeping willow whose branches comfortingly stroked the passing flood. "We'll stay here for a bit, until your eyes are rested, okay sempai?" 

Vincent gave him a withering stare as an impish grin crossed the smaller man's flawless features. He had half a mind to teach the kid a lesson in respecting one's elders, but found he just couldn't be bothered. Stretching out on his cape beside the riverbank, instead he allowed the weak sunshine to dry out his clothes. He was feeling better than he had in decades, which he put down to the fact there was some small purpose to existence. For a while, at least. 

Whatever it is, I can only hope to help. His thoughts repeated themselves ad nauseum. They had become a white noise of denial, cutting off any thoughts of what he might be helping with. You would do anything for him. So why ask... perhaps, perhaps he might be able to do something, if he just asked. It might not have crossed the swordsman's mind that he did not already understand. He told me to question myself... he's hiding something, should I tell him I do not mind. But he might mind, he'd been silently following his old friend without a single word of dissent. He'd not even attempted to discern their eventual destination. If even Cloud had any idea... 

He gave me this chance for retribution, please, don't let me spoil it. 

Cloud was crouching beside the river, staring into the deep, fast current. It looked like it might be a difficult crossing, at least, if they wanted to stay dry. Scooping a handful of water to his lips, he drank just enough to forget about his empty stomach, and decided, after noting his companion's newfound lethargy, to go back for the canteens. 

"What do you think the chances are of having brought something to eat?" Vincent inquired absently, as Cloud wandered past. Grabbing the canteens and a handful of Sylkis greens from Vincent's pack, he shrugged eloquently and headed back to the water. The birds, restlessly pawing at the muddy, stony bank crowed their mutual feelings of delight at his return, fondly nuzzling his shoulders as they ate. 

"Gimme a minute, and I'll get us some dinner." He replied, filling the first canteen. The water was clear and sweet, as it always had been around Nibelheim. But now, since the Mako powered reactors had disappeared altogether, water was no longer the only thing in rivers. "Unless you can deal with greens, or feel the urge to go hunting, that is." He added, noting the lazy wave he received in reply. "I thought as much." 

Throwing the containers back onto the bank, he started to strip off, heedless of the low temperature. His sleeveless trenchcoat was folded neatly, then he removed his belt and daggers, and his boots. Vincent rolled over to watch, constantly astonished at Cloud's strange behaviour. He felt a little more uncomfortable when the boy peeled off his black tee-shirt to reveal his twin scars, front and back, on alabaster skin. Strangely, in relation to his strength, the boy had a slim, elegant figure, like that of a dancer. He must have been freezing. 

Not much later, Cloud, almost entirely naked, though he never removed those bandages, was up to his waist in the raging torrent, wading easily as if there was no current at all. In one hand was raised a slender black dagger, his bright eyes intently following something below the surface. Strands of near-white hair trailed on the water, melted with it. 

Crawling further toward the edge of the river, even Vincent could see streaks of silver flashing beneath the surface. He watched the young mercenary vanish beneath the water, without a spash, ripples closing over his descent and smoothing over to become deceptively calm. The water was deep and very dark, certainly were it anyone else out there he would dismiss them for a goner. Panic nevertheless raised it's head more than once as he waited, a minute stretched itself to fill an hour, two... But still, Cloud's Chocobo, Tenshi, seemed totally unmoved by this development with her rider. Vincent knew enough to trust the mercenary, so he was calm when the small dazzling figure finally emerged. He did so in a shower of golden spray, never once attempting to impress but suceeding despite himself, trailing droplets like diamonds. 

He still had the blade clutched tightly in one hand and a large fish of some sort, (Vincent, even with his Wutaian heritage, would hardly describe himself as a piscine connoisseur,) in the other. Vincent, more relieved than he thought he would be, given his acceptance that he was not here to witness a suicide, merely elected to search for some firewood. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

In time, he found himself sitting beside a rather impressive pile of damp twigs. Absently slicing a metal talon through the bark of a larger branch, he sighed in angry frustration, regretting their total lack of materia. His mood was not helped by the sight of the rather underdressed water sprite sitting cross-legged before him, wearing nothing but black jeans and long golden hair. Smears of blood ran across his face as he carefully, solemnly gutted their prize. 

Why does this disturb me? Vincent's silent question begged an answer, he was hungry, he hadn't fed in days. Feeding was not the depth of his uncertainty, there was little enough blood to give him pause. It felt more like an omen, echoes of the future where the blood might be thicker, or of their own. Illogical that he should be frightened of a little blood, he'd seen Cloud painted crimson and black, wading through carcasses of monsters and humans alike. It was a nightmare that still reflected in eyes that predated Eden. 

Blood, was that all it ever amounted to? He almost regretted foregoing the hunt. The sight of even that small amount made his claw twitch, dripping into the snow, spreading in a sweet crimson stain across the pure white... 

"Um, Vincent. Are you feeling okay?" 

The light voice snapped him out of his deep bloodlust, though his moment of weakness left him feeling rather embarrassed. Tearing his eyes away from the vision, he snatched at a branch, throwing it at the swordsman; who plucked it out of the air choosing to ignore the uncharacteristically bitter mood his friend had cast it in. Staring at it incredulously, as if wondering what could possibly be disturbing about a twig, he dropped it back onto the pile. 

"Everything is wet." Vincent explained further, trying not to look across at Cloud, whose attention was now drawn away from the messy task. Silently, he waved a small, bloody hand in the direction of the wood, which burst into red light, flames licking eagerly at the offering. Then he returned to preparing their meal. 

"Now it isn't." 

Pushing a wet lock of hair from his face, he only succeeded in smearing gunge through it instead. " Though I could do with drying off as well. Maaa, I'm gonna smell of fish forever." 

"Oh, good." Vincent replied dryly, gazing through the fire. "Between your magic and your stink, how will the monsters ever resist." He picked up his rifle, running his gloved, human hand along the oiled wood. He doubted that Cloud would be worried about a silly little thing like monsters, but didn't want to risk getting caught out. He found his gaze wandering back to the warrior, and caught a worried smile. Standing in one motion, he moved around toward him, closing his senses to the sickly smell of ichor. 

"I just wondered, how are we supposed to cook it?" Cloud frowned; dropping the dagger as Vincent sat beside him, a slightly comical look on his usually refined face. Crimson eyes closed to slits as he sniffed, gagging. "Perhaps, you should let me finish?" Suggested the dark ex-Turk, turning to find something in their small pile of equipment. "You should get that mess off your hands, and your face is covered in blood." 

Already the gore had begun to dry on his skin, and he had to admit, he did not smell at all pleasant. So he ran back to the river, hoping that it would be the last soaking for a while. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

When he returned, the fishy odour had all but dissipated, and was replaced by herbs and what could have been wild onions. Vincent was a much better cook than he, even though Tifa had striven to educate him in the culinary arts, his repertoire began at dragon and ended with anything chocolate related. He was yet to attempt chocolate coated dragon ribs. 

But Tifa had died, just like the rest. It was his fault, always his fault. She'd been caught up in the next war, the stupid war between Wutai and Junon, barely thirty years old, and so very beautiful. He sighed, feeling the soft strands of hair fall around his waist as he paused. He'd known that one day he would have to let go, that he would outlive her, but it had still come as a shock. Another part of his humanity torn away, and returned to the planet. He could touch, feel, her spirit for a while afterwards, sometimes. But now she was gone forever, her soul in the Promised Land he was forbidden. 

There wasn't supposed to be any more war... that's what she'd believed anyway. After all the pain they went through to save the world, That was supposed to be the end. Happily ever after, and the princess married her prince. 

Her eternal, undeserving prince, her monster. The words mocked his memories, and now, he never bothered to ask where they originated. It was Nobody, there in the sunshine. 

Beauty and the Beast. He laughed, a mirthless yawp to no one but himself. It did not even matter in the scheme of things, she was dead, and he was serving whatever sentence the world had found fit to place on his misused frozen childhood. 

It never works out like fairy tales, does it. 

People went straight back to squabbling over petty scraps of land. Cloud, Ex-Soldier, mercenary, and other things besides, had fought battles before. He had not been as naïve as his wife, and still, he could do nothing to save her. 

He kicked a stone across the icy path, to slide toward the willow where it fell between gnarled roots. That tree was far older than he, and still, it waited silently beside it's watery lover. Dryad and Nymph, barely able to touch. 

And never meant for one another, though the dryad has life and knows devotion, for a while. It was a fragile web of excuses and lies, but he had loved her, although his love was undeserving of a reply. 

And the Nymph doesn't truly love it's admirer. It always strains toward the sea, like to like. 

A stream toward the sea... So insignificant. Do I deserve something so huge? 

As Commander of Soldier, he could slaughter battalions with a whisper. He could have stopped the war, if he'd been willing to sacrifice the men that should never have been his to command. Yet he had been totally unable to stop one little girl from running away from her mother and Kisaragi-Hime. Running because she was scared, because daddy wasn't there to stop the Junon army from picking an easy target in Yuffie's recovering city. 

He hadn't known... He hadn't even thought, how many times had he failed now? Would he fail in this as well, as he did the first time, and even the last. He'd never told a soul of the truth, and no one knew... Would they hate him for this? 

No, there would never be an end to death, he was a part of it, and he of all people knew it was necessary sometimes. But war, and silly human quarrels had destroyed his hope. If it weren't for one small light at the end of his bloody tunnel, his own Promised Land... he would still be hiding away from the world that hadn't changed even through all the stupid fighting. He had seen to that, and had, from his actions been labelled a monster by most and a saviour by the rest. He hadn't cared, because by then, he had nothing to gain from their opinions. 

So many dead... They, at least, deserve the truth. 

Repetition of fate had left him hanging on to Aerith's promise, for although he was far closer to the planet than any of the visiting Cetra, she held the better bargaining position in the lifestream. 

And if he dropped his guard for a moment, he could hear the ceaseless birth wail of the planet rise toward crescendo. 

It is time, I can feel it through everything. I can hear him again, he answered, the voice he heard was faint and left a brittle thread around his thoughts. It was lost, alone, hungry. 

The planet is angry. The thread tightened, silver white and accusatory. Choices, always choices, he had to choose quickly between the ocean and the sky. 

The planet understands, it doesn't want to be alone any more. It loosened, trailing away in a slither of silk to be softened in mist green. Attempting to match the colour of his dreams, but never so bright. The aspect was not the same and the link much more feint, smaller, and alien to the first voice. The Others, the ones who cared for his planet while his own race dissolved or were diluted. 

Aerith, It hurts, and it is so cold. 

Vincent saw the swordsman stop some distance away, and thought little of it as he skewered another piece of fish and held it in the fire. It was getting late in the afternoon already, thanks in no small part to Cloud's little cookery adventure. He'd managed to salvage the larger part of the admittedly expert dissected carcass, and with the aid of a few herbs it was very nearly palatable. 

"Do you think Ukime could make Cosmo Canyon by sunset?" Inquired the returning boy as he sat across from the unlikely chef, taking a bite from one of the pieces. Vincent looked up from the fire, seeing that it was an almost impossible task to burn anything so wet. 

"I think she could, why?" 

"I don't want to spend too long in the desert." Cloud answered, "Especially not at night. It gets too cold." 

Vincent studied the boy speculatively, "You went swimming in that river, and if I might suggest you get dressed..." 

"Not cold in that way, Vincent-sama..." Cloud shivered, and the look he gave Vincent froze the dark man for a second as the world re-adjusted itself around it's axis. He shook his head to dispel the strange feeling and raised his scarlet eyes, searching for the blue. 

"What are we doing Cloud? I asked you once before, and you told me to question myself... You know I would do anything you asked, but I don't even know what I'm supposed to do." A hint of desperation entered his voice, and no matter how hard he tried to hide it behind irritated concern, it had been there. But there was a kind of release with finally vocalising the thought that scared the others away. 

"I want you to stay beside me, Vincent. That is all, stay with me until I reach my goal. It was once Zack's place to keep us from trouble, and now he is with them. I am alone." 

Cloud sounded so much like a lost child, and as they ate, he became quieter again. "Nobody deserves to be alone forever. Even the last, has a chance don't you think?." 

Vincent began packing away their equipment, putting away a little food for the rest of the journey while Cloud just sat and stared into the flames or the distance. He honestly wanted to help, to tell him he wasn't alone. But he had no place to do so, hadn't Lucrecia said the same thing? Aerith, Nanaki, even himself. There were greater meanings for that one word than just without company. He knew how it was to be broken and he had more than enough patience to see this through to its conclusion. It was Cloud's mood swings that were beginning to get to him, and the feeling he was going to regret it if he got too deep, just as happened to anyone that tried. As Cloud finally got ready to leave, Vincent caught the ending of an unnecessary apology, whispered into the breeze. 

"Gomen, nengan no tou-san." 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

He glanced back once as he jammed his foot into the stirrup, hoisting his lean frame into Ukime's saddle. Cloud was already running Tenshi along the path, trying to spot an acceptable ford. He rode with no saddle or bridle, perching on the creature's back and whispering into her ears, sometimes tenderly petting the crown of golden feathers that resembled his own wild mane so closely. Vincent recalled an idea from an old fantasy book, which rose unbidden from his memory, that elves could ride in such a fashion. By all accounts, Cloud fit his part well. But his skill was more likely born of the same shy determination he applied through everything, and natural unwitting grace. If only he could figure out exactly what it was, ugh... He quickly forgot the idea, had he almost begun thinking like Hojo now? After all this time, it was not what he planned on doing. That foul, ...he wouldn't degrade the classification of `person' by placing it so readily upon him, monster fit so much more satisfactorily. That, monster, had poked and prodded them like laboratory mice. He had borne out his unthinking revenge upon them, without understanding a thing. No, Vincent would never bear to think like Hojo. But then, Hojo had no understanding of those he made his toys. His favourite little pets were soon discarded as failures if they didn't conform to the plan. He had been thrown away, left to the torture of his own guilt and the mercy of strangers. Hojo had taken love and duty, and made them sins in the name of Jenova. 

Why, after so long was all this resurfacing? As far as he knew, Cloud's great task was nothing more than visiting Nanaki. But it wasn't, he'd said it was so important, and he still wouldn't tell him what it was. 

The bags on his saddle rattled as he tried to catch up with the swordsman, looking toward the water and finding the whole idea of crossing impossible. Cloud's golden Chocobo would have no trouble with even the deep snow flood, but Ukime would not manage the steep bank on either side, and he didn't want to risk anything in their small inventory getting drenched. There had to be a bridge further down. Unless of course, the bridge was further up and they had missed it entirely. Vincent had not travelled this far south in a while, and Cloud, well who knew what Cloud got up to. 

"There's probably a bridge close by." He said, his quiet suggestion causing the blond to startle and almost jump, Vincent might well have gained a good black eye were it not for his tenuous position. "Vincent! Don't do that!" He gasped, quickly regaining what small semblance of dignity he'd been left after his fishing trip. "That's what I was hoping on... Though there aren't any major roads through this whole forest, there's an old Shinra Military compound quite close to here. I'm sure there's a bridge there." 

"Military? I thought Reeve tore down all the bases outside Midgar after the Junon war?" Vincent inquired, surprised that there would be any remnants of the Wutai war after so long. Cloud nodded, pointing west, to a thicker part of the forest. "Yeah, well this place isn't that big... but it's kinda out of the way. I was hoping we wouldn't have to go there." 

"It looks close enough to reach within the hour." 

Vincent believed for sure, it would be the case. Cloud stared along the path, shrugged, and agreed with a grin. "Half an hour, then, and I'll wait for you if you fall off!" He didn't bother to watch the river any more; instead, he leant over and suggested something even Vincent could not catch to Tenshi. He raised himself to a kneeling position and crowed, alerting Ukime of the plan before even Vincent had a chance for realisation. 

Happily the chocobos took off running, kicking up the gravel behind them as their riders hunched between the great birds' flightless wings. 


	3. Edge of Entropy

Chapter 2 

On the edge of entropy... 

The base was a little further from the bridge than Cloud remembered, either that or they had stumbled upon another, closer road. Because the old compound was still completely hidden as they crossed, there was no way to find out what it was used for now unless they took an unnecessary detour. The road from there was kept in relatively good condition, unusual for a disused facility, and a slightly worn sign indicated it could be followed all the way to Cosmo city, there was no mention of the base at all. Cloud was almost curious enough to try the unmarked road, but the sun was beginning to drop further through the gathering clouds and would soon be consumed by the dark mass over the Wutai sea. 

"It looks like the day is soon to take a turn for the worse." Vincent pointed out, turning in the saddle to better gauge the speed of the approaching storm. Tenchi would appear to agree, pulling the way she did, cooing for Cloud's attention. 

"We'd better try for the outskirts of Cosmo then," Cloud suggested, slightly less than comfortable with the idea of exploration. He was as eager to leave this place as the others, but for different reasons. "Can you hear that?" 

turning back toward Vincent and the bridge, Cloud froze. Vincent shook his head, and closed his eyes. 

The roar of the river faded into his peripheral hearing, then the scratching of the chocobos' talons. Cloud was a silent figure on his right, slow heartbeat, light breathing, that too he tuned out, as well as his own. The rustle of the trees, thinner on the edge of the forest. The breeze, the birds, the insects, all of it he noted and discounted. 

Then, above the muted music of nature, first signs of discord marred the sonata, about a half-mile away, or closer if they were being careful. 

"Now I hear... Voices?" He whispered, keeping his eyes firmly shut but still, he knew that Cloud was nodding and sitting, motionless, calm. 

"Two, a man and a woman." Confirmed the mercenary, his own eyes wide open and watching the road ahead for signs of the pair. "I'm sure the base was long abandoned..." 

"How do you mean?" Vincent countered, at last letting his vision return to the painful glare of sunlight through a sparse canopy. 

"I mean exactly that, it was abandoned after the Junon war. Reeve disbanded what was left of Soldier when I... left. They gutted the building, and last I heard it was a plain old storage facility." 

"How long ago was that?" 

"Too long. It should barely be standing anymore, but I hear soldiers." Cloud insisted, preparing to wait for the approaching footsteps. He was certain they were military, he heard the clatter of rifles upon their backs, and the steel grips moulded into the soles of tough boots. "I think we should wait, they'll be here in a few minutes anyway." 

Vincent accepted his judgement, after all, he'd seen through worse. The boy might be slightly psychotic, a lot more dangerous than he appeared, and prone to jumping into trouble for the sake of a challenge. But he would do what was best, in the end, hopefully. 

They only had a few minutes to wait before the troopers appeared over the rise ahead, for troopers they were, clothed from head to toe in skin-tight sky blue uniforms. The helmets were reminiscent of the one Cloud had worn in his army days. Black visors, like the beak of a prey bird, covered their faces, and they both had loose black jackets over the waterproof, insulating, armoured bodysuits. It was also the uniform that proved his theory about their gender. 

Strolling along the unmarked road, obviously unconcerned with their patrol routes, the woman spotted the travellers first. Tapping her partner on the shoulder, he followed her gesture toward the warbirds and their burden. A blond boy carrying a sword and a dark man wrapped in crimson. They seemed to be waiting patiently enough. 

"Do you think we should get their papers?" She asked him, slightly unsure since this was only her first week of patrol. Her supervising officer, who'd previously gone to amazing lengths to stress the importance of checking ID papers, nodded and nudged her forward. He hoped they hadn't been spotted slacking off. 

Vincent saw the way they suddenly fell into step, and took it as a sign of acknowledgement. 

"Are you sure about this?" He hissed, dropping one hand to the rifle at his side and covering his claw. Cloud, he noticed, was hovering inches away from one of many concealed blades. Cloud glanced over his shoulder with a grin, a fixed rictus of humour, then turned back to the rapidly closing troopers. "Nope." The blond whispered back, sensing that Vincent had just rolled his narrowed scarlet eyes at his back, and mentally, groaned. 

"North Cosmo Defence Force, Please may I see your ID?" Requested the Female officer, gaining what she took to be a friendly smile from the boy. (Really the same one of mixed nervousness and amusement, as Cloud realized she was probably terrified of looking unprofessional before a superior.) Which soon disappeared when he realized they didn't have any ID, and even if they had it wouldn't do them much good anyway. His last few ID cards made him, respectively, a student at Nibelheim primary school, Shinra trooper Strife, dead, Commander of Soldier, and dead, again. 

"Um, I must have forgotten it..." It was pathetic, but all he could think of as the other trooper began to approach Vincent. Who had quickly decided to become his usual sociable self, and was currently waiting with baited breath for Cloud to extricate them from the situation. 

"You both forgot your ID?" Muttered the male trooper, his voice was rather rough, old. "How the hell did you both forget your ID?" He walked around to face Cloud, but didn't seem that threatening. "Off the bird, kid." He ordered, pointing to the ground beside his feet. Cloud slipped from his mount, the only sound a crunch of gravel as his boots hit the floor. Vincent also dismounted, but remained on the edge of the group, only Cloud noticing the way in which he blended nicely with the shadows. 

"And what on Earth are you doing with this bloody monstrosity?" Continued the officer, tapping the hilt of Cloud's sword. The boy recoiled from the man's hand, putting the weapon neatly out of reach. "Please, don't touch that." He advised, the hint of a growl entering his voice. It seemed the officer was not impressed by his attitude nearly as much as with the blade. "It was my father's, an heirloom." 

"My granddad used to tell stories of when swords were used, sir." The girl informed rather cheerily. "But even he never saw one outside of a museum. He said they were only used by the elite... and crazies, since monsters get pretty nasty." Cloud frowned at the remark, hoping it was not a personal dig. But before he had a chance to inquire as to the nature of said theory, the officer felt obliged to add his own two gil. 

"Mmmm, Like the two generals." He said, nodding to himself. "Sephiroth and Strife, from what I learned at school they fit both descriptions well enough. Apparently went a little too far off the deep end, and with some of the stories, I'm not surprised. There'll never be anyone that good again, thank god, a couple of freakin' mental cases." 

"Really?" Cloud's frown turned up at the corners, curiosity taking the hand of his sense of mischief and tugging. "I dunno, perhaps they were just caught up in something we mere mortals couldn't understand. I mean, I like the idea that they wouldn't use guns, adds a personal touch y'know? Not to mention a little extra risk on their part." 

Vincent raised an eyebrow at the gun statement, but refrained from commenting lest it reveal his possession of such an object. Distantly the rumble of imminent weather, thunder, announced the arrival of dark brooding clouds. Shadows chilled the air, and as he followed the increasingly peculiar debate a speck of rain alighted his shoulder to leave a dark stain and was quickly joined in multiple. 

"Oh great." Grumbled the officer as drops began to thud against his helmet, beating upon his ears like an entire percussion section with a grudge. "You two are going to have to accompany us to the outpost. I'm afraid we can't allow anyone to wander around without ID, and it's only a mile or so to our station." 

"We have to get to Cosmo tonight." Vincent interrupted, gaining instant gratitude from both his friend, and the young trooper. 

"He's right, it's very important that we arrive in time for our... concert, we're musicians, you see." Cloud ad-libbed quickly, wondering whether it was his destiny to get wet whatever happened. He loved the rain, really, but not without a change of clothes somewhere in the future. "Surely you can do whatever you need to do there? We'll even give you a lift." 

The officer was about to put his foot down when the other pulled on his arm. "Sir, perhaps we should. I mean, I don't want to spend tonight in the outpost again, and we could double up, make sure they don't run off?" She added, secretly pleased that there might be a way to get out of walking back. Saturday was a bad night on the staff bus, with all those students and scientists, it was bad enough having to babysit them. She usually opted to spend weekends training, and had hated when they transferred her duties to nerd patrol in the forest. 

Quickly, Cloud glanced to Vincent, who mouthed "Musicians?" rather pointedly, and then back at the troopers who finally seemed convinced. The girl stepped forward and announced their decision. 

"You can go to Cosmo, since there's a station just on the outskirts where we can process you guys." She said, wiping the drops from her visor. "Sir, I think it would be better if I go with... what's your name anyway?" She asked, looking up at the soggy blond. 

"Cloud." 

"I'll go with Cloud, since, no offence sir, I'm a better rider." She explained, and when the officer gave no indication to the contrary, followed Cloud to his chocobo. He mounted the bird in one swift movement, offering a hand to the small trooper. She peered awhile at the proffered palm, which carried a scar across its surface, and admired the three antique-looking rings that ornamented the delicate fingers. Gingerly putting her gloved hand in his she found herself lifted effortlessly in front of the boy, and wondered then just what to do with herself. 

"Just sit as still as you can, and try not to kick Tenshi, okay." He instructed, taking the rifle from her back where it was in the way, and passing it forward. She inhaled sharply as a pale, bandaged arm pinned her in place, and as Cloud noticed this he almost let go. 

"It's alright." She reassured, glancing away from where her superior was sitting rather primly behind the dark silent form of Vincent, and putting one hand on Cloud's. "I don't wanna fall off, and I'm not sensitive or anything." 

"Yeah, well you're safe enough with me anyway." He replied with a grin, as Vincent and his passenger moved off. "You can take the helmet off too... if you want." He eventually hinted, since it was pretty difficult seeing around it. Muttering agreement, she waited until she was comfortable with moving and then began to unclip her hot, stifling helmet. The padding stuck to her skin as she peeled it off, and the feeling of rain on her face was welcome. 

"Oh, that feels better." 

She breathed deeply, free of the helmet Cloud knew to be constricting, letting her hair fall loosely around her face. It was a startling red, jaw length and wavy until the heavy precipitation stuck it to firmly her head. She held her helmet in her lap with her rifle, and was beginning to enjoy the ride. 

"It looks as though your partner isn't keen on chocobos." Cloud observed, making conversation. She laughed as she saw her boss trying very hard not to fall off or hold on to anything he shouldn't. 

"Jonah's okay really," she defended, "you can see why I volunteered to come with you... Why do you ride like this anyway?" 

"Because I can," he replied. They were nearly at the edge of the storm, nearing the desert. There was no sign of civilisation on the horizon, sand stretching between red rock pillars as far as he could see. The girl giggled, and shook her head. 

"What's so funny?" He asked, slightly confused at the sudden outburst. She put one hand over her mouth and pointed at the others, who were just slightly ahead. Vincent was stoically avoiding speech at all, having already ignored every question directed toward him, while her partner rattled on about his bad luck, and having to ride pillion with a punk kid, a silent, gothy punk kid. 

"You two are rather odd, you know that." 

"Huh, oh, well. Yeah I suppose we are." Cloud admitted, "How do you mean, odd?" 

She ran a finger over the visor of her helmet; friction between the leather glove and the wet surface causing it to squeak nastily, both Cloud and Vincent winced. "Well, most people would have just avoided us like Mako sickness if they had no ID." She started, "You carry a sword, that is pretty strange, and you both dress like Goths. Which is cool... different, but cool." She added quickly. 

"So? Maybe we're just a little unorthodox. But we're from Nibelheim, so..." 

"Aaah, that would probably explain the accent as well. I just thought you were kinda posh, you know?" She nodded sagely, wiping the raindrops from her nose. "You're musicians huh, what do you play?" 

"A little of everything, but mostly I sing. Vincent has a voice more suited to the church organ, so he sticks to violin, and if you can get him to, he writes beautiful poetry." He smiled, at least he could tell the truth about some things. 

"So you aren't a heavy metal group, `cause you really look like you would be, are there any other members?" She chirped on, becoming almost as verbose as her constantly complaining superior. It reminded Cloud very much of someone he once knew. Somebody who'd sent her own children to Cosmo after the war. 

"Not yet, we only started recently." Like about half an hour ago... "I guess we're recruiting at the moment." 

"Ahhh, I might come see a performance sometime, huh. Since we're going back to the city, I might take a weekend off." 

"If you can find us. You're welcome to try, I suppose." 

"Oh, I'll find you easy enough. How old are you?" She added, changing the subject rather unexpectedly, on a rather complicated and delicate tangent. It would seem his hunch was right. 

"Why?" Cloud countered, noting Vincent's attention on their conversation. "Can't you interrogate us when you're sorting our ID out?" He tried to keep annoyance out of his voice. 

He had never been confident enough to question anything, leaving the world to settle it's own problems while he ran away from his. 

"Well, yeah." She answered, "But you don't act like other boys your age, really. I just wondered." 

"How old do you think I am?" 

Having already judged the girl to be around sixteen and that she was getting at something, he decided to play her little game to its conclusion. She sat in thought for a while, glancing occasionally toward Vincent. "Nineteen, Twenty at the most." She announced, "and your friend's about twenty five I'd guess. Am I right?" She turned around with an expectant grin, seeming pretty pleased with herself. But instead he leant forward to whisper in her ear. 

"Not even close, but I just wanna ask something first. Can I trust you?" 

"What?" She exclaimed, but kept quite calm, not revealing anything to her superior. "You are him, aren't you." She affirmed, "I knew it. You're Strife." 

"Yeah, yeah... not so loud, you're pretty sharp, but not exactly subtle with those questions you know." He whispered, flicking a lock of hair from his eyes. "Can I trust you?" He repeated earnestly. 

"No trouble!" She gasped, shooting a nervous glance toward the other chocobo and meeting an unfathomable look from Vincent as they passed. "You're like, a hero. The old guy over there is from Upper Junon, so...yeah, well. But I'm from Cosmo, and I had a really good teacher. By the way, you ain't exactly fabulous at subterfuge yourself." 

She had to be, at least distantly... 

"Was one of your ancestors called Reno by any chance," muttered Cloud, reassured for the time being that he'd found an ally, no matter how annoying. 

"Yeah, great grandpa. I'm from an ancient line of mikado, so mama said. But there was a war and so we escaped to Cosmo. That's how come I leaned so much about you. How'd you guess?" She asked, surprised. 

"You just remind me a little of him, and Kisaragi-chan..." 

Silently, he cursed the fact that of all the people he could run into, it would be one of their misbegotten brood. Though it was quite funny how they'd managed to stop arguing long enough to start anything, let alone a family. "So what's your name then?" He asked, seeing as how she was practically related. 

"Carmine Alexandria Kisaragi, though everyone calls me Carrie. You know, I always thought you were...I dunno," 

"Dead?" Cloud suggested. 

"No... taller." She giggled, looking to the horizon; the first few signs of the city came into view. It would be evening before they reached the main outpost, which only meant they would have a little time to formulate a plan. "You really do need some ID, huh... I know a thing or two about how it all works, the computer system's a doddle if you know how. Pretty lucky you ran into me when you did." 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Vincent, meanwhile, had been listening most avidly to the subdued communication, and was beginning to relax. The old trooper behind him had finally run out of breath and, or complaints, and it seemed they would arrive relatively unhindered and with the added bonus of false documents to fall back on. Even in his Turk days the identification system had been easy enough to crack, which was how he'd managed to avoid some serious questions for a time, and he was certain the girl would have little trouble pulling off whatever she was planning. 

Though they had dried out a little, he was still more sodden than not, and as the evening closed around the travellers so the temperature dropped. The result was less than comfortable, even after a long, hot ride they were barely into the desert. 

Twilight brought them to the city limits, once a small community dedicated to the study of planet life, Cosmo canyon had expanded to encompass three universities, and was rapidly becoming less of a sanctuary and more of a sprawl. Bugenhagen's observatory still dominated the beautiful city, which was carved into the sandstone walls of the canyon. A few groups of buildings and covered stalls lined the road, and torches lit their way through to the small facility on the edge of town that served as a barracks. Windmills bloomed around the rosee walls, and from the hanging wooden balconies like steel flowers, humming softly in the evening breeze. 

They rode down mostly quiet streets, meeting few people that gave them barely a second glance. Vincent and Jonah led, and with the aid of a few frantic directions they soon arrived at the plain white walled building which functioned as Cosmo defence force, fifth precinct headquarters. 

The birds were led to a temporary stable as they headed toward the building. Cloud watched apologetically as Tenshi was led away, but could do nothing to help. Walking away from the despondent creature, he allowed his body to be led by an arm toward the station. 

"What is the matter with you, kid?" 

The whiny quality in this new voice set Cloud's teeth on edge. "It's only a damn chicken, and it's not like you're never gonna see him again." 

"Well, he's my `damn chicken', and if you damage so much as a feather he'll claw your eyes so swiftly from their sockets, you'll be blind or dead before you can scream." Cloud replied quietly, and gave the man a shark smile. The warning was enough to silence his company, though as they stepped into the building he received more of a shove than was necessary, causing Vincent to wince. He knew this was merely an administrative procedure, and would be carried out with the minimum of fuss as long as Carrie could pull off her task. But what would ensue if his friend was suitably provoked was anyone's guess. All logic picked a window and jumped, that much had not changed over the years. One minute quiet and almost painfully, religiously sober, he could change in an instant. Then there would be hell to pay. 

They were quickly shepherded through the office, Carrie disappearing behind an unremarkable door as they were shown another, opening into a room with a small cell, computer terminal and table. It looked a little like the sherrif's office from an old western film, where the incumbents would, without fail, find a way out. Luckily there was no motion to enter the cell, for Cloud had his own little reaction to imprisonment that could be entertaining were it not for the consequences. Those were solid steel bars, but there was no saying the officers would get that far. There were some scars best left bandaged, and some claws that couldn't be explained. 

What would happen, he wondered, if they realised just what they were dealing with. They could run, or just disappear into the night. But it would mean the same problems in the next town, having nothing to distract their captors with, no ID and no transport. 

He was pretty certain it wouldn't come to that. 

A million escape routes leapt at once into his willingly receptive mind, each one more unlikely than the last, while he saw Cloud glancing back every so often toward the door. He was probably more worried about his chocobo though, and even if they got away, would it mean leaving them behind? 

"Okay, weapons on the table boys... and we'll see what we can find, huh." The trooper waved toward the table before sitting behind the computer screen and flicking a switch. The ancient unit groaned into life, and, they hoped, began its lengthy boot-up procedure. All the better to add a little data from a remote terminal, surely? 

Cloud, for once, removed his sword without altercation, laying it reverently across the battered wooden surface. The five-foot long blade easily spanned the tabletop, but was unusually slim, claymore style. Vincent had seen it once before, when it was found buried beneath the floorboards in Cloud's childhood home. Shinra had obviously overlooked the well-concealed hiding place while rebuilding. Vincent wasn't exactly sure how the swordsman had known of it's presence, and hadn't even thought to ask when they raided Shinra headquarters straight after meteor to regain that which was confiscated. Cloud kept his secrets, and Vincent could respect that. The sword was joined by two daggers, black blades with handles of bone and ivory. A gift, apparently, though when and where and from whom exactly, was never disclosed, recovered in that raid. The hilts were decorated beautifully, until one got a closer look, which the officer seemed quite keen to try as he waited for the correct set of files to materialise. 

Vincent was loath to add his Death Penalty to the growing pile, which had just received a boot knife, and one of those little camping knives with more useless sharp implements than would ever be necessary. He kept his claw hidden well beneath his cape, even though it was only delaying the inevitable. He might even have to take it off. Over his dead body. 

"Shit, boy... You some kind of maverick or somethin'?" Exclaimed the officer as the small blond extricated a handful of throwing knives from yet another pocket in his coat, finally indicating that he was unarmed. 

"Hmph, there's enough there to keep us in paperwork for a month." He grumbled, still inspecting the daggers. 

The door opened carefully behind them to admit another trooper, masked and silent. Vincent thought he caught an Okay sign flashed behind her back as she approached the table and her superior. 

"I explained our situation, sir." She said, emotionless as when they'd first met. Nodding, the officer finally pulled up the necessary files. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

"Are you sure you know where we're going?" Yelled Cloud as he stuffed a fistful of documents into his back pocket. He was running toward another unmarked cavern, following a swiftly tiring teenage redhead, Vincent close on his heels. 

"Of course I'm sure! I live around here... when dad's not home anyway." She panted; leading them up the candle lit tunnel. "Why the hell didn't you mention your friend was a former member of the guild of overrealistic horror actors?" 

"It slipped my mind." Vincent stated sarcastically, joining the conversation for once. At this Cloud laughed, the sound echoing eerily within the confined passageway. Carrie shuddered, turning up a flight of steps. "A god damned Vampire. Vincent the bloody Nosferatou. You got me fired for sure now, aiding and abetting the escape of Mr. Tooth and fucking claw!" 

"Save your breath for running," Cloud advised, "I still hear them outside." 

They'd managed to get some ID and reclaim their armoury, though the chocobos were a lost cause he feared. If the patrol thought he was touchy, they'd had a nice shock when they asked Vincent to `remove the cape please, it's necessary we check for concealed weapons'. 

"I can't hear anyone." She argued, stopping beside a doorway behind which could be heard the sound of a lot of people and alcohol being introduced. The sign, in fading neon blue, proclaimed the establishment to be `The Moonlight Bar,' though the name seemed altogether too pretentious to Cloud, for such a dump at any rate. 

"I've seen nicer looking dives in the Midgar slums." He complained, pushing open the door anyway, which had a layer of stains thick enough to render the glass bulletproof. Immediately the noise hit him, offending his, and Vincent's overdeveloped hearing. Not to mention taste. 

"Yeah, well some of us weren't around in the Middle Ages." She countered, leading them straight through the throng toward a quiet corner. The barman gave them a funny look, but went back to peacefully polishing glasses when Carrie gave him a cheerful smile. "I come here quite a lot." She explained, "The law isn't usually too welcome, but I'm kind of a special case." 

Glancing around the bar Cloud took a quick itinerary of the clientele, a habit borne of military training. For once it seemed they weren't the strangest people in a room. Groups skulked in corners with eyes like black pebbles, half human, though fully mortal, and men much bigger than any in their company. Weaponry was not nearly as rare in here either, the only reason Cloud had for concealing most of his was to prevent it from walking out in another's possession. 

"Aren't you a little young to be hanging out in a place like this?" He muttered, remembering his own teenage years as a blur of blood and vomit. It had had its bad points too. 

"You don't look any older than me, and anyway, I'm doing you a favour alright." She muttered, waving the waitress over. The flustered girl waved back and left her group of rowdy customers to argue amongst themselves. 

"Hi Carrie!" She grinned, running a hand through long dark hair. "And who are the cuties?" She flirted with a wink towards Vincent. Who surprised nobody by remaining entirely unresponsive. 

"Hi Karin, he's Vincent, don't mind him, he just has a constant stick up the ass." Carrie replied as Karin sat beside her on the bench. "The pretty one's Cloud, he's just too funny for words." 

"You guys want something to drink?" Asked Karin, giving Carrie a stern `Not-until-you're-a-good-bit-older' look. Vincent pulled himself out of his thoughts long enough to mumble "Wine... red," and Cloud tried his best to smile apologetically, his new favourite expression, and ask for "Just a glass of water please." Before she disappeared into the crowd around the bar. 

"So, what was Midgar like?" Carrie asked, seemingly less bothered about her loss of job than would have been expected. Cloud ran a fingernail along a groove in the wood, scraping off a layer of black grime. "It was mostly a dump." He answered eventually, "But it wasn't too bad on the plate. There were even fairs and zoos, museums, that kinda thing you know, it was a real fancy place on the surface." 

Vincent grunted his agreement, but listened more intently than the others realized. It was not often that Cloud told stories of before Avalanche. 

"Yeah? `Cause in class they always taught us that it was bad on the plate too." 

"It was, everything was rotten underneath, but there are good places and people everywhere. Even in the serpent's lair." He explained, not even that bothered when the waitress returned with their drinks and sat down again. 

"What are you talking about guys?" She inquired with a smile. Carrie turned to Cloud, who shrugged. "Midgar. I think I might have some business there soon." He said, which was the first Vincent had heard of the plan. 

"Oh?" She asked, tilting her head. "Why are you going to the garden?" 

"They're musicians." Carrie hoped it would be enough explaination. Karin nodded; musicians could be a funny lot. "So, what about Midgar?" 

"It was a city once, everybody knows that." Cloud began, "Just like Cosmo is now, only built from metal and concrete. Below the surface, it was rotten enough. But not all that bad, really. Even in a place like that there were people who would give anything to get out into the real world, even though they rarely got to see it." 

"Geeze, you sound like you lived there or something." Karin laughed, her shift was technically over and she'd apparently attached herself to the little group as customers were hauled out more frequently. 

"It's a story, if you would like to hear it, by all means remain. But I also would like to hear." Vincent smiled, just enough to flash a pointed tooth before returning to the quiet contemplation of his untouched drink. 

"Sorry." 

"I did live there, for a while." He ran a finger around the edge of his glass, "I was a Soldier candidate in Shinra. It's funny, but if I'd passed, I might never have met Him." 

"Just a sec... Midgar's uninhabited, I mean, it's a jungle out there." Karin giggled, earning herself another of Vincent's crimson stares. 

"Oh, hell. Look, I'm not exactly human, okay, happy?" Cloud groaned quietly. "I'm one hundred and eighteen years old. I lived in Midgar when it was still a city, and I worked for Shinra. Tell the whole fucking world for all I care." 

She gaped for a while, trying to work out whether it was the truth or a weird kind of joke. "Serious?" She whispered. 

"Serious." Carrie replied for him, "But don't tell everyone okay, they're just a couple of really useless musicians as far as you heard, I know you won't blab, right Sis?" 

"No... that's okay, just a bit, weird. But then, Nanaki's a hundred and forty. He never told us about Midgar though..." 

"Sis?" Cloud asked, regaining a little of his sense along with his temper. "You don't look like sisters, or smell like it either." 

"You can smell something like that? Ick, you really do sound like Nanaki. You don't know him, do you?" Carrie asked as an afterthought, "We're not really sisters. Just grew up real close is all, just finish the story. Please?" 

"Okay... I was pretty miserable when I failed, and I might have taken it out on one or two other cadets when they teased me about it, anyway, after that one of the older Soldiers decided to help train me up for the exams. He figured if I could hold my own against a whole dorm then I'd make Soldier someday..." 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

"Why did you have me moved here?" Questioned the little blond boy shyly as he nursed a cut lip. He sat curled up on his new bunk, watching as the dark haired Soldier polished a huge, heavy looking sword. The older boy looked up from his task. "Don't you want to be here?" He asked, concern written across his features, but it faded as the blond shook his cropped, spiky head. "No, I mean yeah, I'd rather be here than there. But why me, you heard what they say. I'm too weak to be a Soldier, I'm too weak to do anything but get beat up." He muttered, wincing as the torn skin on his knuckles brushed against the rough grey bedsheet. 

"Don't come that crap with me kid." Grinned the Soldier, "I saw you fight, hell, you nearly killed two of them. If I hadn't turned up when I did..." He stopped at the sound of renewed sobbing, "Oh shit, Cloud... I'm sorry." 

"That's... that's just it..." Sniffed the boy, who was trying very hard not to cry. The salt tears in his wounds made them sting all the more. "I'm too weak to stop myself. It's always been that way, usually I just take the beating, but sometimes it's too much and I snap. I... I'm sorry Zack. I don't usually cry like this, I don't usually have anyone to cry to." 

"That's okay, even I run off and cry to my girlfriend sometimes." Smiled Zack, "She sells flowers in the slums... I'll have to take you to meet her one day." 

Cloud stopped crying and gave his friend a `look'. "You cry to your girlfriend," he teased. "Maaa, even I'm not that wussy." 

"Don't knock it `till you've tried it, kid." Zack laughed; glad his young trainee was feeling a little better. "Do you even have a girlfriend, Cloud-kun?" He asked. Silence returned as the young cadet thought for a while. "Not really. There was this one girl back in Nibelheim, but she had a whole bunch of friends used to pick on me. Plus, her dad hated my guts; he beat me worse'n anyone. We made a promise before I left, but that was really the only time we ever talked properly. Even that was in secret." He sighed, remembering the night at the well. "She probably forgot me already." 

"Wow, heavy." Grinned Zack, "Well, there's plenty of time, and you're a cute kid. If I didn't have me a girl already..." 

"Zack!" Cloud yelled, too late to stop the blush that was threatening to turn his ears red. "I did not want to hear that from a guy I share a room with!" 

"Only Kidding! I'm straight, man. ...What about a guy you don't share with?" Zack prodded, finding an immense amount of amusement in the current line of conversation. Cloud kept his mouth shut and turned away; Zack was becoming really annoying. 

"Okay, I'll shut up." Zack acceded. "You know, there's someone I'd like you to talk with tomorrow in training." 

The next day, Cloud spent most of the training sessions even less concentrated on practice than usual. He was just about to take an earbashing for daydreaming, and nearly taking the instructor's ear off in the process, when he saw them from the corner of his eye. 

Up on the viewing balcony, Zack waved, grinning from ear to ear as he shook his long black mane in answer to an unheard question. 

"Strife! Wake up!" 

He mumbled an apology, quickly finishing his sparring round with a hurried victory. It was inelegant, true, but that wouldn't have bothered him nearly so much if it weren't for what he saw next. A long black coat, delicate silver hair trailing down his back. Cloud quickly dropped the rapier he was holding far too tightly into a rack on the wall. 

The boy was mad, and elated just the same that his friend really did know `The General' himself. Was on speaking terms with the silver haired warrior. Worse still, he had to leave the gym sooner or later. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

"Is Zack the one you mentioned before? You know, the one you'd never have met otherwise?" Asked Carrie as they finished their drinks. The bar was all but empty now, and quiet with it. Cloud shook his head "not Zack, It didn't matter how much he talked, he was way too hung up on Aerith to be a real threat." 

"Aerith... not the Aerith from all those history classes Aerith...?" 

Cloud sighed. "It was just a story... look, I'm tired." 

Vincent agreed, and Karin, who'd already started locking up for the night seemed to acquiesce. "You guys'll be alright out there, right?" She directed the comment to Carrie more than the others, which Cloud did not miss. "We'll be fine." He assured, "Would you be okay with the kid, or should we take her home?" 

Karin's face darkened, and she turned away. 

"I'm not going home with anyone." Carrie said quietly, "not now, not ever. There was a reason I joined the defence force you know. There's a reason I spend so much time in here, and I'm old enough not to have to live with it. I'm not a kid." 

"Carrie," Vincent began, but was silenced by Cloud. 

"She's right... She shouldn't have to deal with anything if she doesn't want to." He said softly, the girl's expression turned to one of mild surprise. "You mean that?" She asked. He nodded, pushing the door. "I think I understand. If you really want you can do whatever you please, I'm in no position to tell anyone what to do." 

They walked along the row of underground shops in silence, a few other early morning shoppers were around but for the most part it was quiet. Just like it had been so long ago. 

"Do you know any half decent hotels around here." Asked Cloud as they passed, slowly, an expensive sweet shop. Reflecting on a particularly sickly display, she nodded. "Yeah, there's one about two passages along." Cloud stopped and stood beside her, his reflection looking back with a child's eyes. "You wanna have a look inside?" He suggested, hearing Vincent's low groan as the dark man realised they'd end up in there anyway. 

Cloud had an irrepressible sweet tooth, which could be a result of an unusual childhood. He was in the shop before Carrie had time to answer. 

"Shouldn't we be keeping out of sight?" Vincent murmured as the bell above the door alerted the shopkeeper of their arrival. Cloud turned, with a smile. "Yeah, and do you think anyone's going to expect us in here?" He drawled, watching the girl already picking out chocolates. "Just join in or something, I dunno." 

Just as he said that, a group of uniformed men trampled past the door, the sound of their boots magnified in echoes. "I'm not entirely crazy. Remember that, Valentine." 

Vincent had to admit; even he'd neglected to consider routine patrols. He'd been a Turk, and could easily blend with the shadows. But he'd also worked alone. 

"This is kinda cool..." Giggled the small redhead as she gazed through a glass plate at a hundred types of toffee. "You aren't as stuffy as the old guy over there anyway." 

"Hmmm, you'd be right there." Vincent admitted, watching the two like a couple of children. They looked like it, just picking out favourites from the display. Cloud would never grow up entirely, that was his best and worst characteristic. 

"You know, I had a daughter once." Cloud whispered, while taking full advantage of the `try before you buy' policy. Carrie, who'd progressed onto the large paper bag stage and was hovering between peanut brittle and cinder toffee, nearly choked on a bon-bon. "Wha?" She mumbled around a mouthful of toffee. "You're kidding me!" Still, her mind was torn between the two, but part of it was now distracted and it made choosing, and chewing, a whole lot more complicated. 

"You know, there's nowhere says you can't like both." He said, watching Carrie's grin as she promptly dropped a large piece of each into the bag, stuffing a lump into her mouth. "I was even married, to the girl I left in Nibelheim." 

She recovered from her coughing fit as Vincent patted her back, having noticed the agitation on the face of the woman behind the counter. She was a little old lady with a face reminiscent of walnut whirl, which seemed prerequisite in any sweet shop owner, and her expression could have given even Cloud toothache. Especially when Vincent waved a wad of gil in her face. 

Cloud meanwhile, was hunkered down on the floor with the girl, and was showing her his rings. It was amazing; the man who'd barely been able to tell his closest friends about himself was chatting to a teenage girl he'd barely met over Turkish Delight. 

"Tifa gave me this one, she said that if she had to wear a ring then I should too." He grinned, "She was always very determined about things like that." 

"Yeah? Well it's pretty." She said, turning the gold band so the light played in the engraving. "I suppose she was too huh." 

Cloud watched the patterns as well, "Yeah, she was. But she was killed in a war; my daughter was there too..." The subject was a painful one, and he had no idea why he'd mentioned it at all. Especially to a stranger, though in a world where everyone came and left so quickly it didn't matter so much. At least he could talk about it, unlike the girl, whose problems he could begin to understand even without asking. He'd seen it before, and it hurt. 

"So, what are the other two?" She asked, trying to take the conversation away from such things as they laid their selections on the counter. Vincent, who'd elected to handle the money for obvious reasons, paid the lady, and they left quietly. There would probably be a twenty-minute window between patrols if Cloud and Carrie's joint predictions could be trusted, and they only had a short walk to the inn. 

"Those, well, the other gold one was my mothers. That's why it only fits that finger." He explained, walking a little faster than before with his coat and hair streaming behind. It reminded Vincent terribly of... 

"And this one was a gift from my true love." He said softly, his voice almost getting lost in the night air as they emerged on the cliff side walkway. The stone path was carved into the strata, and only a handrail separated them from a nasty drop. 

"Tifa?" Carrie asked, taking her first good look at the ornament. Two bands, gold and silver intertwined with two stones, a sapphire and an emerald. "No... Not her." She shook her head. "What about the Cetra, Aerith?" 

Cloud said nothing, even as the girl began going over her history lessons in an attempt to guess. It felt strange, being a history lesson, and he was glad the others weren't around to experience it. After a while though, she'd given up and led them to the promised inn. Which was a stupid name for an inn, but that was hardly important as they finally and gratefully retired to the room. 

Well, Cloud was grateful anyway. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

"And could you explain, again, why I'm in here with you two?" Whined a young female voice from the bedroom as Cloud stepped out of the shower. 

"Because." Replied a voice that could only have originated in the seventh circle of boredom, and rather agitated at that. 

"Because what, Vampire-San? Because you got me fired?" 

"Because it's cheaper, and easier to keep an eye on you if anything goes wrong." clarified a soft, musical lilt as the bathroom door clicked shut. "Besides which, I don't want to have to pay for a second mini-bar and room service." 

"Oh, you mean I can't be trusted? That's pretty unfair considering you keep telling people you're a singer." She muttered, then the bathroom door closed a little less quietly. 

"Maybe you should sing for us." Suggested the deepest of the trio, with what perhaps could be labelled a chuckle. There was a creak of springs, such as might be made by a small blond boy flopping bonelessly onto a bed. 

"One day perhaps..." He yawned. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

=============== 

Author's Note: Yaaaay, Yippee. (Dances around the room with little Cloud beanie baby to the dulcet tones of Muse.) It took like FOREVER to do this. (A week anyhow...) The first couple of chapters here are very closely based around something I wrote for A-Level, which got me a B, so... 

Anyway, this is like a really rough version, so any comments I will take into consideration. Also, there's a bunch of illustrations to go with it. But you can't see `em, sorry. Unless I get my own site running, and with everything, time is of the essence. Actually, if you really wanna see them, just write a constructive review and I'll attatch them to my thankyous. I love my fans! 

Has anyone noticed that Dante out of Devil may cry is like a cross of Cloud and Vinnie-sama? I love that game too! I've totally worn out the demo DVD. 

Anyway, If you like this, Review it for me so's I know if it's a monumental waste of time continuing. 

Ta muchly! 

~Stormy~ 

(Yes, the one from Icy brian's. Do not read the fic there, it's SHITE.) 

Oh, and If I get lost along the way, it's because I'm trying to remember the heirarchy of heaven and hell, and figure out just how Palmer fits in. 


	4. An Eidolon named Night

1 Chapter 3  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
Wasn't it always supposed to start in sunshine. the books she read quite often did, and those were always the worst.  
  
"Why the hell for. my wha?" She mumbled getting a mouthful of quilt.  
  
Usually because it gave the shit that came later something to compare against.  
  
She rolled over from the pitch blackness behind her eyelids to the pitch blackness outside them, somehow it seemed darker. Bleary eyed, it actually took the pain of cracking her lids to convince her she'd actually opened them at all. She couldn't remember exactly why she'd woken up, but here she was, just ready for a day of.  
  
It hit her then, that she'd somehow managed to get herself fired, or at least unable to return to her oh so thrilling career in the defence force.  
  
She just couldn't remember why.  
  
Although the dim red lights that now swam into view couldn't possibly have had anything to do with alcohol consumption, they were nearly as unwelcome.  
  
O4 : 22  
  
It came into focus along with the various silences of the room, nothing but darkness and silence- like the inside of a tomb and not even close to the half light and snoring of the barracks house. A tomb yes, but with cushy, fluffy quilts.  
  
She was still a little addled, felt like someone had a drill to her forehead, and .drills didn't start until six. But then, she didn't have to do drills if she was fired, so why?  
  
In fact, it was almost as if she'd woken in a hotel room.  
  
There was that ever helpful voice of low-fact reason, all the blatantly obvious but only half the rationale. Stupid brain. Why the hell was she in a hotel? One of the less fancy ones of course, cut deep into the stone of the canyon. No windows, that's why it was so dark. The only sound was that of her heartbeat, unbearably loud even through it's wrapping of flesh and eiderdown. Did that mean she was alone?  
  
"Good morning."  
  
It was a quiet voice, from the other side of the room. A soft, male, voice.  
  
She bit down on her pillow to suppress the urge to scream more than anything. There was a feint recollection of the evening, nothing embarrassing, other than having lost her job without even insulting the commander. and gawking way too long at that pretty boy when he slopped out of the shower half dressed, the old Gener. al.  
  
A pair of sparkling blue eyes, two burning slits watched her from across the room, piercing the inky blackness as they widened to larger than average proportions. She realised that he was waiting for some sort of answer.  
  
"Shit! Your eyes man." She gasped eventually, latching her own eyes onto the only thing she could see. It was really, really eerie.  
  
"Yeah, I guess they don't build 'em like me anymore, huh?" Whispered the boy, she couldn't think of him as anything else for some reason, his voice was still kind, but slightly bitter. Couldn't he find something to be happy about?  
  
  
  
"They only managed two real monsters even then. come to think of it." He added, "by the way, I'd keep the shouting to a minimum if I were you. Vincent's an old man, he gets a little cranky if you disturb his beauty sleep."  
  
Carrie giggled despite the warning, struggling through the thick coverings to surface. Her eyes didn't hurt any more, but it was still impossible to see anything besides those other eyes.  
  
The dark never bothered her, really, only when the lights were turned on, and the door opened. And she was never going home.  
  
But neither of them moved to do so, and it made her wonder a little more about those eyes.  
  
"You can see me, can't you." She stated, "And what do you mean real monsters? There are thousands of the things swarming around outside the city limits. That's what the research lab's for, to figure out why they still exist."  
  
She knew she was beginning to whine, and quickly shut up. Turning toward where she remembered another bed to be, but it seemed Vincent was still dreaming whatever kind of dreams a vampire had.  
  
And when he'd said Monsters, just who did he mean? If they weren't the beasts that attacked you on the road or the man with blood in his eyes.  
  
It was tempting to join them, if they could bear to allow her, just to see exactly what was meant by 'monsters'. Of course, if last night was anything to go by, she'd end up dead.  
  
But wasn't that exciting? Fun even, it wasn't as if she had anything going for her here. Not since her mother died, the last lady of Wutai, and the last of Leviathan's true children. She'd never even seen her homeland, perhaps if she travelled with them, she would.  
  
"Shut up."  
  
"I didn't say anything."  
  
Only then did she realise she'd said anything herself.  
  
"Oh, sorry. I was um. talking to myself." Carrie muttered, hoping he couldn't see what kind of colour she'd turned. "So, what're you going to Midgar for?" She enquired, hoping to find out at least a little of what she was getting herself into.  
  
It was decided then, as long as they didn't drop her or kill her, she was going.  
  
"Do you talk with yourself all the time? I just know that's where I have to go, that's all." He answered in reply to her silent scowl.  
  
"Do you always have to know things?" She sniped back; "I just wondered what there was over there at the garden that you were so damn interested in."  
  
"The garden?" He sounded as though the words Midgar and garden were mutually exclusive terms, but for as long as she'd known that's what everyone called the place.  
  
"Yeah," She said, forgetting her annoyance completely with an opportunity to impart her own hard earned and invaluable knowledge. "I've never seen it myself, but that place is like a jungle. There's a study group that travels across there sometimes, with Nanaki-san." She said the name almost reverently. "Hey! Maybe there's a way you could talk to him." She yawned, rather unexpectedly and threw her hand over her mouth.  
  
"Maybe I will." He agreed, flopping back onto his own bed. But there was no chance he'd sleep again that night, not after the dream. Oh, but what a dream, a message really, they were more frequent now, taking over from those of death and pain and experimentation at Hojo's hands. Though they, still, would never go away entirely, staining the nights in scarlet and sterile white...  
  
"You'll be lucky, he's kinda hard to just talk to." She informed, "Anyway, you can't just stroll around out there lookin' like that. The cops'll recognise you from last night."  
  
"Hmmm, you might actually have a point."  
  
"Glad you agree, Spike." Came the terse reply, Carrie was beginning to think the guy was stubborn, arrogant and cold. But then, hadn't he been nice before? If there'd been any amount of light left now he'd closed his eyes, she might have caught a sly half-smile.  
  
"I've got a few tricks left."  
  
"Huh? Could have fooled me." She yawned again, "What about Dracula over there?"  
  
"What do you suggest?"  
  
"That we get some more sleep, and work it out later."  
  
"I'm not stopping you."  
  
There it was again, logic. cold, damn impossible irrefutable logic.  
  
And she hated the way it made her feel, like needles under the fingernails. Because although she barely knew him, there was something not right about it. Something that would have normally seen her taking the first fire escape out of there.  
  
"I can't now." She grumbled, the noise of her insight and her own stubbornness, completely misunderstanding each other, slightly too much to sleep over. "Why are you up so early anyway."  
  
"I had a dream."  
  
If she heard one more simple statement, she'd yell anyway and let Vincent gut her in pity. well, not quite that drastic, and where on the planet did the idea he'd do more than shout at her come from? If she wasn't completely sure about joining this little excursion she'd have bailed long ago. Wouldn't she? Of course, and if she did, where would she go.?  
  
"Yeah, I get them sometimes. Nasty huh?" She sympathised quietly, putting her temper down to tiredness; it would start much better in the sunshine.  
  
"No, but I'd rather not talk about it."  
  
A cheeky grin found its way across her face, perhaps she'd get a reaction if she were to tease him. even if it was just to find one of those knives too close for comfort.  
  
"Oh, well, if it wasn't a nightmare. it wasn't too nice, was it?" She chided, rewarded by a small, feral, chuckle.  
  
"You ever hear of 'the line'?" He growled, though no menace was implied. Unfortunately, that was a slight error in judgement on his part as far as she was concerned.  
  
"Crossed it, right, Spike. Heh, in that case, it must have been hot n' horny!"  
  
"I doubt you would have the slightest idea, I have a singularly creative imagination." He teased back, the hint of dark suggestion in that confession more than enough to disturb her own dreams for the next month. It wasn't as if she didn't know what went on.  
  
"I was in the. the army too. y'know."  
  
"So why are you awake then? Is it something to do with why you can't go home?" He asked, sounding concerned.  
  
"No, but I'd rather not talk about that." She mumbled, using his words as a reminder that he wasn't the only one with secrets. "I think I musta had a nightmare too, or something." When she tried to remember, she just drew a complete blank. So she lay in the darkness and tried to imagine what Cloud's great mission might be, and what hers could be.  
  
"I could help, if you want to sleep." He offered, eventually. "You really should get some rest, and a sleep spell is harmless enough."  
  
Carrie shook her head vehemently. "No chance! I don't want to sleep for the next week solid or anything." She protested, magic was not something she wanted to discover just at this moment, she wanted to be around to see it. "I've heard stories. Anyway, what about you, you can't just sit here in the dark all night. What about. a bedtime story?"  
  
"Oh, come on." He groaned, "another one?"  
  
Disappointed, Carrie slipped down further, wrapping one corner around her shoulders. "I like stories, and you're nice to listen to; you have a nice accent."  
  
"Thankyou, it was my mother's."  
  
"Was that a joke?" She had to ask, because it was a surprise to get an obliging answer for once. "It sounded almost as if you were trying to be funny, but, naaa it couldn't be."  
  
"So what would you like to hear about now?" Cloud sighed, beaten. "Anything in particular? Dragons, fairies, how to decapitate a hundred men in two minutes. compromising and embarrasing sex stories, the meaning of life. that's always good for putting me to sleep."  
  
Carrie turned Cheshire cat, certain that her teeth were the only thing more visible than the slight blue aura across the room. So, this was what the guy was like if he lightened up a bit. Pretty much like he was when pissed off, only sardonic instead of sarcastic, a slight but notable improvement.  
  
"The sex thing sounds interesting." She mused, "But you know, I think I'd like to hear about the Cetra. the Promised Land that everybody started talking about after the Meteor, y'know?"  
  
"Ah, going for original." He drawled, taking a slight peek at the clock. "How about I tell you the truth, it makes a pretty fairytale although it's more accurate than the old Shin-ra records."  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
"The Cetra were not always a nomadic race, but they were scientists, and developed some of the first technology on this planet. They originated on a world much like this one, in cities like Midgar used to be, and were a lot like the people of a hundred years ago. Part of the technology they developed was space travel, in fact, it was their obsession with space which first alerted them to the presence of a meteor in time to escape. Believing it to be just an unfortunate incident, they built ships called arks, and set off in search of a new home; their Promised Land."  
  
"This planet, is the Promised Land? And you know this how?"  
  
"Like you said, I just know things." Cloud shrugged, a useless gesture in the dark, but fitting. It was also easier lying down than one would imagine. "Yeah, at least most of the Cetra thought it was when they finally arrived. None of the arriving team had lived on their home planet, they were descendents of the escapees and had only computer records and the planets they rejected to go by. Their objective was to find a planet capable of supporting life, with either no indiginous intelligent peoples, or a civilization willing to accommodate them. This planet was the latter." He curled a lock of hair around a finger, the girl was still awake, he could tell from her breathing. She was listening intently. "The people they found appeared similar to them, and at the same time, some were completely different, and they had no machines. They were warrior tribes capable of things the Cetra only dreamed of, and while they had magic and art, the Cetra offered technology in exchange for knowledge which these people were happy to give. This included the ability to hear the planet and to a small extent, use healing magic. They weren't foolish enough to share black magic - and never told the immigrants more than they needed to know about themselves. Of course, this made a few of the Cetra suspicious of them; they wouldn't trust anything but their own technology and became even more planet-deaf than they were to begin with. Those are the humans, who now are reaching the level they were before the Exodus. Instead of shunning them, the people of this planet took it upon themselves to protect the Cetra. They were the first to sense the arrival of Jenova in the wake of their new allies, and managed to convince the humans to hide in their cities of metal while they fought Jenova. The Cetra, misled, and feeling some portion of the planet's pain decided to join with the warrior tribes and fight. But as they were killed they started to come back, walking corpses; to infiltrate the rest of the Cetra civilisation. They came, Jenova spawn in the guises of friends and loved ones. The only survivors were the humans and a few protectors who exist past their own extinction, only to fight the same war until the end of time."  
  
Carrie yawned, it wasn't that the story was that boring, but something in his tone that was irresistable. "That was a happy ending." She smiled, "Who are the protectors then?"  
  
"Some other time maybe, unless you figure it out on your own."  
  
She finally felt herself losing the battle, sleep bearing down at last, relentlessly. Her long forgotten nightmare, which suddenly threatened to remember itself, disappeared altogether with his last indecipherable whisper. Then the darkness came, enveloping her once more.  
  
There was something about the blond, she thought, that maybe he wasn't all himself. It was like gazing up at an azure sky and seeing nothing but stars.  
  
Funny, the things one thought when semi conscious, she thought further, with only the merest hint of amusement, he wasn't half as strange as Vincent.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
"It will never work." That was Vincent, humour almost seeping around the corners of his stoicism at some earlier suggestion.  
  
"Well what else do you suggest? I can't honestly see a choice." Cloud argued, though somewhat unenchanted with the idea himself. Carrie rolled over to get a better view of her new companions, and hit the floor with a bone-jarring thud.  
  
"Ow."  
  
"You expect our friend to be even slightly helpful?" Vincent frowned as she crawled onto hands and knees across the rug, kicking the blanket away in utter disdain. The blond had his hair pulled tightly back to keep unruly strands from sticking every way but where he wanted, even then, there was the odd escaped spike.  
  
"Still no good." She commented, ignoring Vincent's incredibly rude, in her opinion, judgement on her usefulness. "It just makes your eyes show up more."  
  
"I know. And if I wear shades I'm likely to end up looking like a Turk." He agreed; pulling the leather band off and retying it so that half fell around his face, and the rest did as it pleased. On him, it looked cool. "We're gonna have to go with plan B."  
  
"What's a Turk?" She asked, hopefully not appearing too ignorant, and definitely not keen on finding out just what 'plan B' was just yet.  
  
"It was a division in Shinra," Vincent replied, as apathetic as his friend had been. Obviously something to do with himself then. "They were the spies, assassins that sort of thing. The best, most cold hearted killers in the world."  
  
"Really? Worse than 'The Generals'?" She grinned, firstly because she had seen Spike flinch at that particular statement, some little show of humanity maybe, as Vincent merely turned away.  
  
"I was one, once."  
  
She'd managed to piss them both off at once. oh, very clever.  
  
"Look, guys I'm sorry." She flustered, the smile falling from her face instantly. "Whatever you wanted me to do, I'll do it okay?"  
  
She stood, hands clasped behind the back of her trooper uniform which looked no worse off for being slept in. Sweeping her helmet off the floor, Cloud threw it at her. She barely had time to notice, but still managed to catch it and put it on.  
  
"You just have to find Nanaki-san, go straight there, and don't look back."  
  
It sounded easier than it had to be, and why shouldn't she look back? It wasn't as if they'd melt if she did.  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Because you'll probably fall on your face." Vincent explained, just as she narrowly avoided the pile of bags beside the door. "We'll be following, don't worry."  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
  
  
"What if everything were to die out all at once then?"  
  
A rather robust and entirely unashamed voice rang through the dining hall of First Cosmo university campus. It's owner, a tall, olive skinned and moderately good looking student, readjusted his glasses with a chopstick and shot the table's other occupant a smug grin before deftly spearing an unlucky pickled onion.  
  
"There will always be balance." The girl replied softly, scraping an armful of unruly black hair behind her back. She perched on the bench as if she would bolt at any moment, and already her arms were wrapped around a pile of work books which she guarded like a dragon's hoard. "Only the descendents of the Cetra would be removed, since you aren't really part of this planet."  
  
He left his concentration on the meal for a second to gauge the wisdom of sitting through the same argument yet again. Well, he preferred to think of it as a friendly discussion, since it was impossible to tell what his sparring partner thought behind those amazing blue eyes. She always managed to make her point sound absolutely irrefutable and he didn't want to lose all the time, so it was definitely not an argument. She was smiling, not smug, but slightly arrogant. It didn't matter though, since she was very pretty.  
  
"There you go with that 'you' word again Liliyan, It's like you just decided you aren't going to be human or something." He laughed, knowing she'd never respond to his teasing. He'd begun to believe it himself lately.  
  
"Whatever." She chuckled, with enough enthusiasm to finally lift herself completely from the bench. "And if you call me that again, it'll be mezzo soprano."  
  
"It's your name, Lil-ly." He drawled at her rapidly retreating back, extending the two syllables twice as long as necessary. "Or would you prefer 'Ice Queen of the Angels'?"  
  
Her response to the last overused title was an oft applied and well applauded middle finger as she reversed through the swing doors, gracefully using her backside to open them since her other arm was loaded with books.  
  
"She loves me really." He laughed, returning to his salad with unabated devotion. Oh, but she was so shy! It was amazing she didn't spend all her spare time locked in their dorm studying. He'd have to find out where she did disappear to all the time, some day. They were just roomies really, and he figured a girl like that was probably too good for the likes of him, if she knew it, he wasn't sure. But she'd talk to him, and Nanaki-Sensei if it was anything to do with the planet. She never talked about herself, or her family, even though he'd met a half sister or something, once, on a visit.  
  
"Are we musing on the finer points of life-form development, Naethan?"  
  
The voice startled him back to reality, low and growly, but agreeable nevertheless. "You could say that, Sir." He muttered, as the fiery Lion warrior alighted the opposite bench. "It's that girl again, she makes my brain ache."  
  
He put his hand to his forhead in overdramatic demonstration that gained a laugh, or purr, from his teacher. He supposed that Nanaki would know a little about women, being what, a hundred and forty something? But then, they'd never found another of his race, so he'd probably not be much help with his particular problem.  
  
"As far as I can surmise, that is your normal state of existance."  
  
"Not always!" He defended, the occasion demanding he think of an exception quickly or look foolish. "Sometimes I'm great. Usually when I'm drunk, granted, but for a few blissful hours now and then, my brain neglects to remind me of it's presence."  
  
His defence hadn't turned out quite the way he'd intended, and managed to degrade to an embarrassed mumble, his fingers tangling nervously in short, fading purple spikes. "Yeah, well I managed to dredge up a little more on Materia, if only there were some to really test my theories on. I was gonna ask around, or check the 'net sometime but I don't think I'd have any World Shattering Sucesses there."  
  
Nanaki shook his head, beads rattling in the ornate headdress he always wore. "You wouldn't, it was only produced in reactors."  
  
"Which were dismantled eighty years ago." Naethan sighed, on one hand it was a good thing there were no more Mako reactors, but he couldn't help thinking that a little Materia would be very useful. He'd studied the theories of magic practice, mainly to figure out why Lilly was so interested and, perhaps, get invited to wherever she spent so much time practicing, and knew that there was a little still in existance. Which would no doubt be out of the purchasing power range of a student grant and Saturday job at the cinema.  
  
"There's natural materia, it's rare, but I bet if I could find some." He dug a chopstick right through a leaf, lifting it, but not really in the mood to do anything more. It fluttered a little in the draft, as someone opened the doors. A small red-haired girl he'd not seen before. She looked lost.  
  
"You'd be no better off than you are now." Nanaki insisted, resting his head on the table to look under the lettuce which was threatening to come between him and his wayward trainee. "Materia and magic are not toys. Hello miss Kisaragi, were you looking for me?"  
  
The last comment was directed toward the readhead, who had been hovering silently in the background for almost five minutes. It appeared she'd been attempting to communicate through telepathy, or at least bore a hole through the back of Nanaki's skull.  
  
"Um, Yeah Jijii-san. sorry, Nanaki. I know I'm not supposed to interrupt you here, but." She turned as if expecting to see something over her shoulder, Naethan couldn't see anything, but Nanaki seemed a little on edge too.  
  
"I do not mind, what is it?" He asked kindly, moving to let the girl sit down. She turned again, scanning the edge of the room.  
  
"I asked Carrie if she would show us where to find you."  
  
The voice was new, and as the words were spoken, crystallizing the edge of reality a little, the air just behind her took on human form. It wasn't as if he'd appeared, but more like he'd been there so long they hadn't seen him, which just made Naethan's head hurt more. The man who logically, didn't appear out of thin air, was quickly joined by a man who hadn't just stepped out of a shadow.  
  
"Sorry if we're disturbing anything," he added, sitting on the other side of the bench with more elegance than Naethan would have thought normal for a teenage boy with wild blonde spikes, silly earrings and a lopsided grin.  
  
"Cloud!" Nanaki seemed completely overwhelmed by the sudden appearance of the two, admittedly, Naethan had found it disturbing, but the way his teacher was acting was a new experience.  
  
"Vincent? It is so good to see you!" He gasped, "Please, we should go to the observatory. You too Naethan, if that's alright Cloud?"  
  
Naethan was now completely lost in migraine territory, it was almost unheard of to be invited to Nanaki's private study, and even less so for the distinguished elder to be nervous in front of anybody. But here he was, asking the newcomer for permission to allow him into the observatory.  
  
"Sure, do you think I could get something to eat though? I'm starved." Cloud inquired, already standing and halfway to the serving counter as the others stood to leave. Naethan quickly grabbed his books and bag, this was not an opportunity to pass up or be late for, whatever it was, was probably important. He really ought to stop thinking about it too, right now, his ever so helpful brain cautiously reminded, since the blond had already raided the food counter and was leaving with his teacher, and the others.  
  
"Hey, wait up!"  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
  
  
The moment the door closed to Nanaki's private chambers, all sense of tense decorum completely disappeared and three completely bemused onlookers witnessed the flying tackle which had Cloud on the floor in a matter of seconds.  
  
"Cloud! You came! Is it time?" Yelped the fire lion as he reverted to a mere thirty years old and sat on the swordsman's chest. Sandwiched between a two hundred pound warrior and an uncomfortably positioned claymore the blond nodded, slightly struggling for breath. After a few attempts to ask the creature to get off, he simply flipped him through the air with a well placed boot. Safe to say that Nanaki recovered more quickly than the spectators, laughing wildly as Cloud sprang to his feet and a relaxed fighting stance. "How long has it been, old friend?" Nanaki asked cheerfully.  
  
Dropping his hands, the swordsman took off his sword and leant it against a wall. The private rooms, Nanaki had explained on the way up, hadn't been altered except for adding a voice control to the equipment .and a lot of upgraded technology.  
  
"Thirty years, give or take a couple."  
  
His sadness descended once more, those who understood what had just been said were reflecting on the implications of such an absence, while those who didn't were still trying to work out why the air temperature had lowered almost ten degrees.  
  
"Marlene." Sighed Nanaki, first to break the silence and add a tangible explaination for it. Cloud went further by actually smiling as he dropped to the carpet, landing between his legs in a bemused puddle.  
  
"There are probably more dead people in my head than in the lifestream." He laughed, but without much conviction, leaning back and pulling his legs to his chest as they all found places to sit.  
  
The room was hardly furnished for guests, the only chair being used as a makeshift filing cabinet. All took their cue from Cloud and Nanaki, sitting Indian style around the edge of the thick rug. The blonde pulled an orange from his pocket, which had luckily survived the recent wrestling match intact. He'd have trouble explaining the sticky pockets away at the dry cleaners. Digging a fingernail into the tough peel, he began flaying the fruit as he spoke.  
  
"I guess it was time for a visit, then."  
  
"Long past, and Vincent, do you keep well?"  
  
The dark man smiled an ironic smile, and absently licked one of his pointed fangs. The move made Naethan cringe inside. He'd yet to hear this shadow speak, and imagined it to be somewhere between a hiss and the sound of coffins slamming shut.  
  
"As well as could be expected Red."  
  
He didn't fail to notice the relieved sigh as Naethan's fears were proved unfounded on at least one point. "Although it seems your student is having a little respiratory difficulty."  
  
"Am not." He choked, "I just don't really know what I'm doing here."  
  
He directed the end of his sentence to Nanaki, not prepared to stare this new peculiarity in the face. It had to be the fangs, or the eyes, or perhaps a combined effect that served to scare the poor boy spineless. He was damned if he'd admit it though.  
  
"You're studying Planet life, Naethan. I thought perhaps this would be an opportunity." Here Nanaki smiled and turned his one amber eye from the student toward Cloud. "To learn from a real expert."  
  
Naethan turned to watch the diminutive blond, curled up in his black coat and licking orange juice from his fingers. "Who, him?"  
  
Cloud tore another segment from his eagerly awaited breakfast, "Who, ME?" He echoed with an arrogant flick of frosted fringe, resting his chin on his knees as he chewed. His piercing blue eyes flickered in amusement as they came to rest on the nervous student. Naethan suddenly wished he'd kept his mouth shut, and wondered if he'd scream or get some aspirin any time soon.  
  
"I don't see why not."  
  
The orange peel flew straight and true over a shoulder and into the bin, narrowly missing Carrie as she tried to decipher one of the readouts behind her on the screen. "I have all the time in the world."  
  
Funnily though, the offer seemed perfectly genuine. Even funnier to Neathan though was how he'd completely forgotten everything he ever wanted to ask about such things, and stammered out a pathetic "R, really. I don't know what."  
  
"He's studying magic." Nanaki stated matter-of-factly, finishing his student's stilted utterance with the good humour of a teacher over his protégé. "He'd like to know what he's wasting so much effort on."  
  
"It is not wasted effort! There was magic not so long ago, and even some materia in museums."  
  
His nervousness and temporary selective amnesia were not enough to silence an enthusiastic defence of his pet subject. Naethan ignored the amused aloofness in the blonde's eyes as he continued the rant. "It could be such a benefit to humanity, healing magic in hospitals, fire spells, even the support magic was used less than fifty years ago. I'm sure that if we could figure out how to use it again."  
  
"There was a reason, you know, why materia was abandoned." Cloud rocked back on his heels, "Did you ever hear of the battle of Dragon pass?"  
  
"Of course I did! It's seventh grade history. Wutai was the centre of trade in Materia at the time, and because of its wealth Junon felt threatened. Along with poor government making things worse and the rumours that Wutai was raising an army with the strongest warriors at it's command, it was inevitable that there would be a war." He paused to take a breath, "So?"  
  
The swordsman broke into a smile, then soft laughter as everyone turned to face him. "Is that the way they tell it now?"  
  
His voice and eyes were empty of the humour his actions betrayed, as if they hadn't quite got the joke.  
  
"It's the way I heard it, although I have to admit, the teachers tell it better."  
  
Carrie had paused in her in-depth study of the weather in Costa del Sol to watch Cloud's laughing fit. A quick glance around the room showed that both Nanaki and Vincent were very close to joining him.  
  
"The war was over the materia." Cloud pushed himself back up, but did not stop until he was standing. Leaving his explaination for the time being he disappeared through a door at the side of the room.  
  
"Oh." Naethan was not completely out of smug intellectualism, not that he'd really had much of the intellect to begin with. "And that was enough to make materia no-go? I know a lot of people died an' all, but I hardly think."  
  
"You are entirely correct. You hardly think."  
  
Nanaki growled at Vincent for his unnecessary interruption, but stopped as the man indicated a desire to continue. "A lot of people died, but think, if either side had really won, why did they lay all the blame on the thing they were after in the first place?"  
  
"Huh?" Naethan and Carrie both struggled to comprehend the ambiguous logic of Vincent's rhetoric. Unable to answer, when it was obvious their version of events was different from the other's, the version that had to be true considering the amount of bullshit suspected in the system of new governments, that quickly forgot things if they were deemed unsuitable for people to know. Whole half centuries had, in that way, come to be suffering continuity problems. Besides, after a few subtle references to time, and the common knowledge that Nanaki was easily old enough to have been there, it was quite possible all three had.  
  
"Because when it all ended, it was already gone. Did you get a nice sanitised version of the massacre too?"  
  
"Massacre, you mean when General Strife slaughtered half the Junon army and dissapeared into the sunset." Naethan snapped, Carrie's face turned a distinct shade of pale green. "You mean, he took the materia with him?"  
  
"That is exactly what he means." Cloud reappeared around the door, carrying something that was impossible to make out as it was so small. "I took it for a purpose, apart from the obvious, it was payment for a service I requested years before."  
  
"You?" Nathan's eyes bugged, "You're General Strife.? But he, you, that was ninety years ago! People do not come back from the dead!"  
  
Cloud sat back down, becoming distinctly averse to the constant stream of witless mumblings. Unfolding his fingers he revealed a single green sphere, translucent, and glowing with the same inner light as his eyes. "Well, here I am, and I think I'd know if I'd died anytime recently. You wanted to learn about magic, and I assume it is the mundane technical use of the word that you are referring to. Here you are, materia."  
  
Mundane? Technical? The sphere that lay across the small, scarred palm was anything but those things to Naethan, and even to a lesser extent, Carrie. "I've never seen anything like that." She whispered, her own muddy green eyes locked onto the smooth orb. "And you're saying that you took all of it."  
  
The familiar glazing of the eyes when confronting the potential of things less familiar, not to mention a, well, a famiy tradition, had fully enveloped the redhead's expression. The boy too, seemed unnervingly focused. One whisper, he knew, one slight touch of that small crystal could give him the chance to prove his theories on magic use. His hand was quite possibly exercising it's independence in that direction as bony fingers snapped the thing away. He realised then, that the gutteral snarl was his own, and the smile on his tormentors face a little too sharp. Naethan almost fell backwards in panic, his breathing all of a sudden not a problem. He'd lost control of something in that moment and disgraced himself in front of Nanaki, as well as two strangers professing to be only slightly less than mythical by way of their still breathing, and coming quite close to proving it.  
  
"As far as I know, yes. I took it all and with my own good reasons, as he has just beautifully demonstrated."  
  
The word beautiful when uttered in such a fashion took an unpleasant tinny quality at the corners of his teeth, how could anybody consider it their right to 'protect people from themselves,' for that was obviously the noble intention inferred, no matter how important they might have been at the time. "Who died and made you god." He spat, only barely regretting it. There was something in the way Strife held himself which might have acted as a warning, and something in his smile that could have been a challenge, but his eyes were a void. Vincent followed the unfolding and possibly fatal scene with mild concern, poised to diffuse anything that approached animosity. The others were similarly taut, lending the atmosphere a touch of the uncertain explosion. One that never came, luckily, as the blond seemed totally unmoved.  
  
"Don't try and help my conscience, you couldn't hope to compete." The whisper came, accompanied by the anti-noise of four other screaming minds. Naethan backed down willingly, without reasoning why.  
  
"What type is it?"  
  
"This? It's a master, one of only two in existance." The orb was again unveiled and tossed whimsically into the air, shimmering briefly before it landed unchallenged in the hand that threw it. "Two sets of materia that allow the user knowledge of every spell mastered by it's creator."  
  
"Creator? I thought materia were made by Mako reactors, or found naturally, not made. Wouldn't you need to have a lot of power just to make a simple single elemental?"  
  
Cloud continued to juggle the Master Magic, adding to it a red and a yellow. "Yeah, I suppose so. That's why there are only two sets, one is about two and a half thousand years old, probably created by those who tought the Cetra when they crash landed here."  
  
"There were people here before the Cetra?"  
  
"Records do indicate such a thing, Naethan, did you study those texts found in Midgar?"  
  
"Um, I might have. Weren't they about the first landing team to this planet or something? there's only so much you can figure from three references in Cetra." He was mumbling, wishing he'd never been asked since it seemed he knew nothing of real use. Languages were not his favourite subject. "Old Cetra at that, I dunno, I thought we were gonna get an explainaton on magic?"  
  
"I find it rather fascinating that there could be older races. I don't even really have anywhere near full records on my own tribe, the Gi, the Cetra, Leviathan's people, or the Jenovans. Humans aren't even that well recorded until the fall of Jenova over two thousand years ago." Nanaki had begun to pace, but soon settled at Cloud's side when he realised. "I'm sorry, I guess excitement has made me ramble a bit."  
  
"That's okay, Red." The swordsman dropped the materia and gave his mane a ruffle, something Carrie and Naethan would have expected could get a hand bitten off, though they weren't about to change or test that particular view. For the first time in almost half an hour Vincent lifted his voice from the shadow of his tattered old cape."Perhaps you should finish your explaination before we go off on any more tangents, Cloud?" He said softly enough for it to sound affectionate, and the blond boy tilted his head to return the hidden smile, sending a waterfall of gold tumbling from his shoulder.  
  
"I tend to think in tangents Vincent." the sentiment was weary, in a sort of dreamy singsong that could spread tiredness like a yawn.  
  
"So, what about the other set, was it a secret project in Shinra or something?" Carrie grinned, watching the crystals nestled between thick strands of carpet. It wasn't as if they did anything, but if one paid attention it could be seen that they had dulled a little since Cloud put them down. Nanaki was quick to coorect her assumption. "Oh, no. Shinra would never be able to do that, as you said, it takes someone with a whole lot of power, which is rare enough." Rare indeed, when the attempt had been made by others to create masters since the second set, none had been even slightly sucessful. Even other members of Avalanche with their unique magical experience had been unable to work out what to do, and as for asking the one person who could he'd simply stated he couldn't explain if he wanted to. "But as well as that you need an innate knowledge of magic and the planet, you have to be in a place with enough resonance, and you need the raw materials," he finished.  
  
"Raw materials?" Naethan suddenly regained interest, directing it solely towards Nanaki, since something made just looking at the Ex-General feel like acid on his eyeballs. Nanaki was happy to oblige though, he knew enough of the basic facts besides which, he had the distinct feeling someone small and unpredictable was falling asleep with an arm draped over his back.  
  
"Well, Materia. Masters and Huge Materia, we collected enough."  
  
"Enough? I knew that it was more common back then, but. how common?"  
  
"Cloud decided it was against his beliefs for us to carry more than two hundred, most of those were mastered and well, disappeared after the battle in the crater."  
  
Even Naethan knew which battle was being referred to, but it was the way Nanaki made such an amount of materia seem insignificant, that Cloud had thought it a small number. How could that skinny, childish little smartarse have been allowed to make so many judgements. What made people trust him so strongly, well, he wasn't going to just follow anyone without question. He wasn't even sure if all those old stories were even true anymore. Especially now that the man was using the guardian of Cosmo Canyon as a pillow.  
  
"Two Hundred!"  
  
Cloud never bothered to open his eyes, just answering quietly enough for the others to have to come closer.  
  
"This is the other set, the one I made." He pushed them with his spare hand towards Carrie, not Naethan to his chagrin "I don't really need them though, after all, to create something like this one must already have the knowledge and skill to be implemented, to know how to do it properly." She picked them up, not bothered in the slightest about the fact her new leader was acting rather perculiarly.  
  
"Or else it doesn't work?"  
  
"Yeah, unless you've got the power without the information, then you're lucky if you just blow yourself up." He chuckled, making her wonder what happened to the unlucky.  
  
"The alternative is much worse."  
  
"So you can use magic without Materia?" Naethan asked, a look of quandary creasing beneath his glasses. "I don't suppose you could do anything for a headache?"  
  
Although he'd asked as a joke, Cloud kneld forward, his palm outstretched toward the forehead of a now uncertain Naethan. With a small subvocalised utterance in some language impossible to lipread, Naethan's head was completely clear. He blinked a couple of times to get used to the slight tingling sensation, and muttered a brief disbelieving thankyou.  
  
Hovever, a spell as basic as that should not have caused a reaction in it's caster, at least, not one sufficient to floor them.  
  
"Cloud?"  
  
Vincent was beside his friend before anyone else could move, it appeared from his demeanour that this was not a regular occurance.  
  
"Cloud!"  
  
This time, everyone heard the scream. Two voices, no three, joining thousands in chorus. Only two of them were in the room, the rest seemed to reverberate around the small space, loud and shrill enough to turn their blood to ice.  
  
"It Is Time."  
  
  
  
  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
Author's rant: This week, I shall mostly be making lame excuses for my poor storytelling. And yes, I do ramble on don't I - Expect that to change soon enough.  
  
Sorry guys! I know this chapter has been short and confusing (To me anyway), but see, I'm an artist. I have all the pretty, dramatic things already thought out in my admittedly overactive imagination, and I'm sorta using the bits inbetween as a way of figuring out how things worked. Like how come Cloud had a much higher magic stat than any other character -- including Sephiroth -- (Yes, I admit getting them all to level 50 before the keystone episode just to work it out.) And how come he just seemed to know how to do so much weird shit after he found himself in the lifestream. By the way - I wanna PS2 version of FFVII, with FFX graphics and voices and lyrics and a decent dialogue translation, who's with me? - (Resounding indifference from the hordes)  
  
I guess my biggest excuse for why the conversations are all business, is 'cause I'm boring MYSELF here trying real hard not to give too much away and all. Shit, too much ranting, must pop off, cheery ho, all that jazz.  
  
Sayonara, for now.  
  
~Stormy~  
  
P.S, Thanks for the reviews. all two of them @_~ The pics are in my Loth And fanquarter Galleries 


	5. We seek, and so the truth will out

Chapter 4  
  
1.1.1.1 It's all getting a little surreal.  
  
  
  
"Don't touch me!"  
  
He flew up the ladder to the roof in a matter of seconds, running straight out, almost crashing into the railing that seperated him from six hundred feet worth of straight-down. The screaming subsided a little, and he realised belatedly that it was because there were instruments in the observatory to amplify the planet's every sound. This was the first time they'd been entirely coherent though, at least, to anyone but himself.  
  
As much as they had quietened though, he could still hear them running like a constant silver thread through his mind. It never completely stopped, becoming a soft and sometimes soothing music, a childhood lullaby. Aerith had explained a little, as much as she could remember, of how to interpret what he heard. But Aerith had been a Cetra, able only to talk to the spirit energy of her own kind or hear perhaps the less complex emotions of the planet itself. Cloud had discovered, painfully, that he did not have a single drop of Cetra blood. It had been one reason why Jenova accepted him, allowed him to serve her. Subtlety was not the word for what he felt.  
  
There was one overriding message, strong enough from both his own nagging subconscious and the soul, for even planets have a soul, of the earth itself. He was wasting time sitting around here. He was so wrong about having plenty of time, there was so little now, he'd have to leave without them. Besides, he wasn't going to fall back into the habit of collecting strays.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
Vincent was the first to follow, but as the others waited, he was the only one to return. His expression unreadable, if anything perhaps a little concerned. "He's gone."  
  
"There's no-where to go up there Vincent." Nanaki reasoned, "It's not like he could climb down the side of the observatory."  
  
"I couldn't see him anywhere, he's gone." Vincent insisted, heading straight out of the room with Cloud's forgotten Claymore. The door slammed behind him with a peculiar finality.  
  
"That was weird."  
  
"You think we should go too?" Carrie looked to Nanaki for confirmation, but he shook his head.  
  
"I doubt either of you would be capable of catching Vincent, and if Cloud doesn't want to be followed."  
  
"He didn't mind before." Carrie argued, gathering the materia into a small cluster. "Besides, why would he give me these? I'm following, even if I have to break his Chocobo out of the coop."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Why what?" Her head snapped up to let her stare angrily at Naethan. "I don't have to tell you why, I can do whatever I damn well want." In truth, his question had unnerved her. She didn't know why she wanted to chase after the two strange men she'd met only a day ago, but she knew something big was happening, and if something big was happening that she had even briefly been involved in. "I just want to, that's all. I never said you had to come with me." They were not going to leave her back here, wondering what she might have got herself into.  
  
With that, Carmine Alexandra Kisaragi, last remaining (to her knowledge) Desciple of Leviathan, pocketed the world's three last Materia and walked out.  
  
"Nanaki. Why do I have the feeling she's chasing after ghosts?"  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
The barracks on the outskirts of Kalm were a long way past settling down for the night. Though intermittantly one of the unlucky troopers posted for that evening's patrol duty would shuffle despondantly along their allotted stretch of corridor.  
  
The officer's quarters were a slightly different matter. Located at the far side of the old complex, away from the main gates, they were an easier point of return for small groups of curfew breakers, and were only guarded from a point at either entrance.  
  
Normally, any sensible cadet would not be seen within a hundred meters of the old buildings. Not only were they full of higher ranking soldiers, but it was said they were haunted by the ghosts of the Mako-eyed Shinra Elite that had used this place as a training facility. Usually considered to be tales used by the officers to keep cadets away, the idea, after a night's application of alcohol, became almost. almost attractive. What could be a bigger laugh than to cut through officers quarters past midnight, while the younger members of their little group almost wet themselves.  
  
The reality was a little less convincing, at least if you got lost on the way through. One such cadet was finding herself in just such a situation. She'd been this way before; with the same group; from her dorm; only last week and was to her own judgement still firmly on the pretty side of soused. Although that was quickly wearing off as it became more obvious she'd been set up. Not daring to call out in case someone heard, settling instead on a grunt that was intended to express extreme pissed-offness while not actually intended for anyone to hear, just in case, she tugged on the hem of her entirely unsuitable skirt and shuffled along the polished floor. With stiletto heels safely clutched in one fist, for ease of movement and indeed, an extremely effective weapon should she catch up with the rest of her so called 'friends,' it was a little like ice-skating.  
  
Too dark, too cold and creepy enough without the ghost stories. She grit her teeth in an effort to stop them chattering with cold or fright or an effort not to burst out giggling. The best strategy, she considered, would be to find the main corridor and head roughly in the direction of the eastern wing. It was a pity, then, that while in a pleasantly drunk state it was almost impossible to distinguish East from Left.  
  
At least she'd not run into either ghosts or superiors, yet, and almost as if the gods had finally decided to give her a break the next corner she slid then stumbled around was the wider passage, flanked by large moonlit windows on one side and the dark portals to guest quarters on the other. Just, in fact, as the sound of muffled footsteps began to take on a slightly sharper edge, given by proximity. With a rush of liquor-spiked adrenaline she barely managed to drop behind a large pot plant, stuffing an arm ferociously into her mouth and forcing her eyes open, though her view was now hidden by withered foliage, not enough to hide her, but too much to see exactly who it was.  
  
He strode quickly along without even a glance in her direction thankfully, and by the look of his uniform, luckily, though the colour was stained brown in the moonlight. It was probably one of the delegation from Fort Condor, a Lieutenant. Soon after his passing, after the door at the end of the corridor swung shut, and a few minutes more to be certain, she crawled warily from her cover. Looking back at it, it was a wonder how anyone could miss her behind such a moth-eaten specimen. Still, when it works, she figured, it would be better not to think too hard about it until safely back in bed awaiting the inevitable hangover and three hundred press-ups before breakfast.  
  
Reinforcing her grip on the shoes which had cost her half a paycheck, the trooper scrambled back onto her feet in preperation for the next charge. She never made it, one glance toward the distant doors was enough. Instead of the officer having left, there were now two people standing there in conversation. Dropping back, the cold outer wall was once more pressed against in frustration, the plant resmed it's duty as a barely adequate screen. "Fucking great." She hissed as the leaves around her shivered sympathetically. It was a miracle she'd survived this long flailing around like a rookie, which admittedly she was. The two figures appeared almost as wary of being about this late as she was, hovering like moths around a small patch of light in front of a door. There were words spoken, in hushed whispers, as if a fierce debate was taking place. Perhaps she'd caught spies in the group. She quickly pushed that thought back to wherever it came from, since what good would it do if she couldn't tell anybody. Instead, she strained to hear a little.  
  
".only have one day here, . most of it."  
  
The smaller figure nodded in agreement, moving toward the door before she, or he, it wasn't easy to tell in the darkness, was caught roughly by the arm.  
  
The trooper, pressing into the wall so hard that it threatened to leave an outline, or if she was really lucky, to swallow her whole, watched incredulously as the argument grew into a fight. Suddenly 'fight' took on a whole dictionary to itself and threw up words like 'assault' and 'rape.'  
  
"Oh, shit, shit. no." She curled tightly, unable to tear her eyes away from the horrific scene as the tall man pinned the other to the wall, looking around nervously, as if to make sure nobody saw. The man's hair was long, braided, but his eyes were even more distinct as they threatened to strip every leaf from the pathetic weed between herself and them.  
  
Turning back toward his quarry without even the slightest notice paid to her quivering presence, he seemed to soften somewhat. He raised his free hand to trail slowly down a pale arm, perhaps taunting, but the atmosphere had lost it's tinny sense of dread in exchange for something more profound. Highlighted, chiaroscuro the lingering couple paused exactly on the cusp of existance, where one move could, believably, throw the universe into chaos.  
  
Or perhaps it was the alcohol talking, since her brain had shut down to the point where higher funtion consisted of remembering to breathe. But as that caress became as slow as an eclipse, and finished with a kiss comparable to some blinding corona, she had to finally avert her eyes for fear of burning them in the dark.  
  
Ten minutes later, and with the mixed feeling that she'd like to forget this night. regretfully knowing it was likely to happen, she crept back out into an empty hallway.  
  
  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
Author's note. Short and sweet, just like the chapter. @_~  
  
I had an Idea. it was so good at the time that it really did deserve a capital! I don't know if it worked, but since I'm writing this for a giggle; ask me if I give a rat's ass.  
  
The short story in the barracks was originally a one off, but it was a little too ambiguous, or so I was told by a certain someone, who knows me by yet another name (Cybergoth-kiroko.) Whom I promised not to identify, (he knows who he is!) I decided to incorporate it into my fic.  
  
Niggurath's balls! I'm trying to keep this as vague as I can, but I keep thinking how obvious it all is. Then again, I know what's happening.  
  
Oh well. as always, peace and love. as long as it's interesting. Check my piccies people!  
  
Sayonara  
  
~Stormy~  
  
P.S. I meant you, Aurelius! 


	6. Lysimachia

****

Chapter 5

__

Rhapsody in Pain

Life took you away from me,

When I am blind, still you I see.

Born a victim, lived a lie,

My gift to you; freedom to die. 

*

An obnoxious noise pervaded the evening, threshing every molecule of air within a hundred metre radius. Over time, it steadily increased in frequency and volume, whipping all senses into a blanketed agony. 

The long and slightly frost-bitten grass, that grew between cracks and around the perimeter of the small dilapidated helipad writhed chaotically; beaten downwards in the unnatural gale. It stretched for miles around, beneath washed out grey skies and only broken by the old barracks as they stood alone, like an island of concrete and razorwire at the centre of a golden sea. The sound of chanting, marching cadets, was all but drowned out, momentarily.

Vincent drew his cape more tightly around his shoulders, taking a short glance back at the oblivious ranks and the old remembered buildings which were just as ugly and uninspiring as ever, despite their patchwork architecture, before turning away. The downcast skies were as drab as the grey paving beneath his feet, and thus were restful on his eyes. He did not discriminate a single shade purely on it's reputation, even though it meant another spell of rain. It had already been daylight for over fifteen hours, and that was far more tiring in itself. 

Behind him, the sound of rotor blades began to die away, leaving only the whispers of the wind and grass that shivered slightly. He pulled on the aged leather strap which had only just started to wear an invisible groove into his shoulder, a sword which weighed considerably more than it should. Intending to ignore the weapon left temporarily to his voluntary, _and he had to remember that he'd not overtly been asked to follow this time,_ responsibility, until it was possible to return it to its owner. He took the well worn path that had appeared beneath his feet without taking any conscious effort to find it.

The golden tint, he discovered as he passed among them, was given by a thousand million knee high dandelions – some of which, even in the early months of winter, still possessed defiant ragged blooms among the majority of disintegrating white-topped spires. Spits of ice cold rain stung his face whenever he turned it from the ground to seek out the first signs of Kalm in the distance, so after a while he rarely tried. 

The last time he'd been there it was still as small as ever since the influx of refugees ended, and there had been too few of them, he hastened to recall, barely enough to cause disruption in neighboring towns. He hoped to spend as little time there as necessary, just to ask, though he knew he'd get no positive answers, whether a foreigner had passed through recently, and maybe gather a few supplies.

He pulled again on the strap, feeling cold metal slap solidly against his back. Vincent wasn't a swordsman, though the idea of learning intrigued him a little. Cloud said that it was just a matter of practice. Actually, if Vincent remembered rightly it had been more like, 

"When everyone wants to beat the crap outta you for being smarter than they are, and you happen to have an unnatural amount of talent in that specific direction, you learn to watch the higher ranks train when they don't realise it." 

He'd said he trained since he was old enough to walk, that his father taught him, and that was saying enough since the man had died around his seventh birthday. Then somehow, in Midgar, one of the less dense first classes had taken him under his wing.

"Oh, the fortune that appears to us in tragedy disguised," he sighed, not caring if it seemed strange to speak to himself. If Cloud had survived, or been left out of the Nibelheim mission, he might someday have succeeded Sephiroth as general. Just as if he'd somehow managed to convince Lucrecia to forsake her lifetime's work… Either way, fate would have played itself out somehow, and conspired toward a similar end. Vincent was still an avid believer in fate. 

Vincent was not a Vampire; in the storybook sense. He would not turn to dust in daylight. A crucifix was merely an item of jewelry, thankfully, given Cloud's tendency toward the things, and garlic could only hope to give him antisocial breath for a while. But he had some similarities as well, such as the sensitivity to light and the romanticism of things. A stake through the heart would probably have more or less the same effect on him as on a human, and of course he needed to drink blood to function normally. If he could possibly be classed as normal these days.

The sword on his back was not too heavy to carry, yet. It slapped mutely against his cape, reminding him with every step the task which he had taken upon himself, to keep the younger man from trouble; whatever that could be. Something wasn't right, the way he'd left without an explanation, even if they hadn't been in touch for years, Nanaki and Strife were virtually inseparable. He didn't think the visit was purely social, and was a little unhappy with the usual lack of details.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Cloud dragged the knife back with a grunt, it made a gravelly, rattling noise as he pulled it, and then thrust again to hit the same mark more deeply. Spits of rain hit the back of his neck, numbing it through cold as he attacked the wound again, digging out a small stone. It weighed as little as a feather in his red stained hand as he rolled it around, then threw it over his shoulder.

Kneeling further back, and pulling his coat up again to cover his raw neck, he twisted the ivory handled knife and sent it spearing into the soggy earth where it shuddered awhile, embedded in the same haematite clay that covered his face and hands. 

"Ick." He hissed, grinning to himself at the sight he must present if there were anyone around to see him kneeling in the dirt beside a tent, which was only inches away from being in a river. But there wasn't exactly anyone to see him there, and it seemed to be his destiny to get rained upon. He washed as much of the mud from his hands as was possible, then flicked the other dagger from it's sheath at his back. 

This time, the edge was pulled across mostly clean flesh, cutting through the vein just below his pulse. Immediately, thick, dark globs of blood began to roll down his wrist to pool in his palm. He watched with familiar interest, the blue-green swirls of light which mingled with the fluid. It was not Mako, but pure spirit energy that seemed to exist symbiotically within his arteries. All traces of Jenova's presence were long gone, his body having somehow managed to reject the cells entirely. Just as his soul had been the vessel for her ultimate destruction, his body was her undoing.

He was everyone's failure, the death of all that should not be.

He held the hand as if it were a chalice, not bothering to actually vocalise the words he needed. The planet knew his will as intimately as he did, and a small offering was all that he was required to give. The Cetra did not approve of blood magic, but then, even they had needed to fall upon a sacrifice in the end. As the liquid dripped onto the hastily carved runes they shone brightly for a second before healing into naked scars, soon covered in clusters of tiny green shoots.

The cut in his arm closed simultaneously, and he licked his fingers clean, one at a time. There was no scar, there never was. The only scars on his entire body were those left by Masamune, silvery traces across his palms and heart. Reminders of his first death, and the only one that would ever matter. They had made a pact, the three of them, one night. So long ago now that it felt like a silly plan thought up by children. He hadn't realised back then, as children rarely do, how much he would lose in the fulfillment of his duty. He hadn't guessed that it would ever be necessary.

'_But mine's special… it doesn't do anything_.'

It was a terrible irony, he thought, that it was essential for his existence to continue. He should never have been born, just as Holy should never have been created. Holy was not a separate entity, it required an inception; a second half, and a catalyst. It was an end, not a beginning. Absently he rubbed the other wrist, below the bandage, before crouching at the entrance of his tent to wrestle with the temperamental zipper. It was lucky that his fingers were already numbed with the cold, or they might have protested at the way they were being treated. On a final desperate tug the zip flew open and Cloud was at last allowed entrance to his temporary… very temporary, accommodations. 

If it was not warm, at least it was reasonably dry inside. He had no bedding, his belongings were little more than that which he wore and that he had managed to buy from Kalm on the way through. Digging through them to find something edible, he silently chastised himself for shopping on an empty stomach. Then unwrapped his second Snickers bar. 

Instead of actually eating it, he used the bone dagger to peel off the chocolate as he thought. He wouldn't sleep, that was already becoming apparent.

*

'They're beautiful.'

'They're yours, here, happy birthday.'

'For me! But… they're so… they must have cost a fortune. Besides, my birthday isn't for three days.'

'I wouldn't know, they've always been yours. They were made for you.'

'You're being romantic again. They look ancient, and I'm not even sixteen yet.'

'I, I can't be here in three days.'

'I understand, but…'

'I'm sorry Cloud, really. But lately I've had this feeling that we haven't got much more time together.'

'Don't talk like that, and don't think it either… I haven't slept properly in ages.'

'I know, but you feel it too.'

'Of course. So, tell me about these blades that were made _just_ for me, thousands of years before I was born.'

'I caught that.'

'I was only trying to lighten the mood.'

'Not that. Could you please _try _and keep your mind vaguely focused for a minute, I'm getting a lot of naughty thoughts that aren't mine.'

'Yours are good too.'

'Cloud; Chuui yoku sh'te kudasai! 

…Did you know, that there are legends that say before even the ancients there were a people called the Eddain? Just myths, probably, told by the ancients. But one tells that they had a leader, a king called Odin, and when he died he became the spirit of the moon.'

'My mother used to tell me about that… It's where she got my name.'

'Hmmm, the clouds, Odin's daughters.'

'Stop laughing, or I'll…'

'Ow, you wouldn't dare.'

'Just keep that image.'

'I wasn't trying to upset you. But 'cloud' _is_ generally used to insinuate feminine attributes. Anyway, those blades were said to have been made for…'

'The youngest.'

'Yes. they're made of the same metal as the legendary broadsword Ragnarok, and they belong to you. There's another legend as well, I'll tell you later when we have more time to talk.'

*

He turned the handle carefully. One dagger for one purpose, the other for the rest. He only ever drew blood with the bone handled blade if it was unavoidable. Caramel, however, was a completely different matter. He ate it straight from the metal, staring at the flapping green canvas overhead. He would not sleep. He could not sleep. All he could do was hear the music of the stars and the pained whimpers of a semi-healed planet. He could not sleep, because he was too full of sugar. He would not sleep, because he kept telling himself that he could not sleep. And when he stopped telling himself, he was too busy thinking about the time he was wasting; not being able to sleep.

"K' so." 

He was up and out of the tent the moment his knife was clean, and only stooping to retrieve the other dagger, he was half way to the graveyard city.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Authors Notes: Hello out there, I actually managed to write some, with absolutely no character interaction, eep. (Flashbacks don't count.)

This is gonna be a long story, and since it's not supposed to be funny, (Like Clouderella,) I'm having trouble getting all my ideas in line. It's not that I don't know what to write, I actually have the whole thing planned from start to finish, I just wanna get the imagery right. PLeEEEEsE, Review… or I'm going back to Silent Hill 2 and getting ALL the endings before I write anymore. ^_^.

Thank you, Sky, for having a little faith in me.

(You know, I think there's a story that seems suspiciously like my 'Sparring' story, that went up yesterday. I'm just wondering, cause I thought it was an unusual idea when I wrote it, if anybody knew of any other Cloud-Rufus as Siblings stories.)

O - Yasumi nasai…


	7. Doesn't the moon look pretty in Hell the...

Chapter 6

__

Amor Mortis…

He paused, unsure of exactly he was doing. She'd come back, Nanaki had gone with her, and now what? Was he actually going to drop everything and leave just for the chance to get his hands on a few crystals.

But that had been his life's ambition, hadn't it. Up until now he would have done anything to experience magic first hand. So what had changed his mind so thoroughly? 

Naethan touched his forehead, the total lack of headache bothering him far more than it should. He had been on the receiving end of a restorative… well, he didn't know exactly what to call it. The strange thing was though, was that it really hadn't been such a big deal. 

Right. He pushed down on the door handle, leaning into it as he almost fell into the room. It was a whole day since he'd been unceremoniously dragged out of the refectory, to talk about war and magic with a group of what were most definitely not humans; who'd disappeared in less time than they'd materialised.

The lack of headache was really disturbing him now.

"Are you going to stand there looking stupid, or are you going to get ready?"

Naethan managed to pull his expression into a crude semblance of normalcy as his roommate dangled backwards over her high bunk. Black hair dripped in long threads from the railing, and blue eyes narrowed at him.

"Huh, get ready for what?" He asked, trying not to seem agitated that she knew something already. "I was just gonna get some sleep, if you don't mind."

He dropped onto his own bunk and began to untie the laces of his battered sneakers. It would do no harm to think it all over for a while. He had until nine, nine thirtyish before they were due to meet this associate of Nanaki's.

And after that, Midgar, in an airship no less. 

"You might as well get ready now." Lilly continued, not bothering to correct her current state of inversion. "Because you're going to follow her whatever you were planning on telling me. Don't waste time on my behalf. I'm a little tired, good night."

He was just about to protest when the long dark swathes of hair retreated from the edge of the bed. She obviously wasn't going to give him a chance of arguing back, whatever excuses he'd manage to stammer out unconvincingly before shoving the things he'd already prepared into a bag and walking out into the empty corridor. So he just packed in silence.

Then he threw the bag at the door and sat down to re-tie his laces, still in silence.

She'd not sounded upset, or angry. So why the silent treatment all of a sudden? He was just waiting for something he knew would never happen; why would Lilly try to talk him out of it when she'd practically pushed him out of the door. 

'You're going to follow her.' Lilliyan's words, and he hadn't even told her about the meeting. Had she seen them, and not bothered to say anything? 

Not for one moment did he bother to flatter himself with the thought that his roommate might be jealous. She wasn't, Lilly was not even vaguely interested in him, he knew that. But it still didn't explain why she didn't want to talk to him now. Especially after being the one to broach the subject in the first place.

"I'm going, then, Lilly." He said eventually, reaching for his jacket and then retrieving the bag from it's little heap on the floor among the discarded socks that hadn't quite migrated to beneath the bunks yet. "Lilly?"

There was no answer from the dark alcove, and he pulled himself up a couple of the rungs toward her bed. "You asleep already?" He joked, peering over the edge. She smiled back, but when she tried to tell him to hurry up and get a move on, she just couldn't. Pulling her blanket up further, she just managed to shake her head weakly.

"Take care of yourself, okay. Whatever happens, do what you think is best, and I'll see you around." She said quietly, waiting until he dropped back onto the ground.

"I will, Lilly. You too, okay, I'll try and think of you whenever the nights get cold and spooky." He grinned, leaving before anything was thrown at his retreating comment. As the door closed behind him, Lilly collapsed back into her bed, far more worn out than she'd ever admitted.

~*^*~*^*~

Long past dark; Vincent reached the bluff overlooking what was left of Midgar. With the chilling night air penetrating deep into his bones, and an ache now settling into his back; it just added to the memories of the first time he'd seen that city. He felt _old_.

Moonlight seemed to turn the huge structures, only a couple of miles away, into a void of tangled foliage. It seemed alive, writhing slowly between tall crumbling pillars of steel. With every step forwards the mass of living vines and jungle grew, as it would slowly bury the stone and swallow the city and any trace of the people who had once lived there. That was what happened to mausoleums, eventually life thrived and reclaimed any sort of human memorial. 

Approaching the apex of his climb, Vincent could now see the city of Midgar from above. Once an expanse of glittering lights that was now a black hole. Midgar had imploded upon itself, and left a dark background to the gleaming, moonlight drenched sword that cleaved the horizon in twain. It was that which he aimed toward now, a warriors burial. The blade was very familiar, nothing particularly ornate or magical, but very special to its past owners. The dark, worn steel blade was still unaged. Only a tangle of clematis wrapping around the metal and weaving through the two circular holes served to indicate that it might have been here for any amount of time. The ground around the base was covered with tiny golden flowers, which somehow retained their colour even in darkness. 

Cloud had been here, recently, for around the hilt of the sword, along with three sets of dog tags, hung a wreath of daisies. It was like something a child would weave on a summer afternoon, when there was nothing better to do than play with flowers. It might have been just that were it not for the fact that daisies did not customarily grow in winter.

This was the grave of someone very well loved. It stood in the middle of nowhere, more than a shallow pit dug in desperation by someone who was trying to protect the body that lay there. Stopping to take in the sight, Vincent realised that he had nothing to give, not even a memory.

Despite appearances, Vincent was not at all familiar with burial customs. He knew plenty about killing, and even though he'd spent thirty years entombed in a crypt below hell's gate, he had never actually laid a loved one to rest. Not until Lucrecia, anyway. His chest tightened involuntarily, and he pulled his cape tighter. Now would not be a good time to start getting lost in the past. The sword on his back was also still there, and the sooner he found its owner, the sooner he could be rid of the weight. That was one burden easily unloaded. 

Burdens, death… Everything about this journey was ominous, there would be no happy ending. Unless one believed that there was a certain happiness that came with the knowledge that it was really the end. 

*

"You made it… I wasn't sure." 

The small, grey haired woman smiled shyly down at Vincent's polished black shoes, hiding the redness in her light brown eyes. She'd been crying very recently, and with enough reason. It was her husband's funeral.

"Of course I came, Shera. When Reno told me, I… I had to offer my sympathies." He faltered. What did one say to somebody whose life had all but ended, that would not sound contrived or altogether inadequate.

"I'm glad you came, I don't think he'd have appreciated a big fuss. But he'd be happy to know that everybody came." Shera explained, seeing the conflict in the dark crimson eyes. Vincent felt decidedly uncomfortable as he stood in his black suit and took another look around the group. 'Everybody' was not a lot. They hardly surrounded the six foot casket, and of the group he appeared the youngest. It scared him a little, not having seen some of these people in decades.

Yuffie and Reno were there, both neat and respectable which in itself was something he would never have expected, once. She still had raven black hair, set into an intricate style with lacquered combs and pins. Reno's flame red was mostly grey now though, and his smirk was nowhere to be found. Shera was still trying hard not to cry, although every small movement betrayed her pain. Her daughter, a woman herself, looked just as drawn and tired, and completely out of place in a dress instead of overalls.

Then there was Marlene. Just looking at her hurt, her long braided hair falling over one shoulder as she rested against her husband's shoulder, he couldn't help but notice the lines around those sparkling green eyes. Even Nanaki had aged, although he was just reaching adulthood, there was still an aura of sadness around him that wasn't just due to the sombre occasion.

That was it, the only remainder of their group. Cid Highwind, undoubtedly the worlds greatest pilot and one of the first to reach space in millennia, was remembered by only a handful of people who'd seen far more terrible things than anyone ought. All survivors, but everything had to die someday, except of course for himself.

"Terrible, isn't it."

Yuffie had come closer and laid her hand on her friend's shoulder. The light was still in her eyes, but the smile she gave him was tired. Vincent agreed silently and only half listened to the priest who was reading, with only slightly more enthusiasm than Cid was showing, over the casket. It was a small church, and even then his voice was lost in the empty hall, rattling between empty oaken pews and resonating softly around the stone supports.

A hand squeezed his, gently, and he didn't have to look to know that Yuffie was still standing there, and that the comfort was her own as well. She'd been quite fond of the old engineer as far as Vincent could tell, he'd been one of the first to join Wutai's forces in the last Great War. He'd led the airforce, along with captain Tochigi, while Vincent had gone with Reno and the rest of the Turks to form part of the special tactics squad, led by Cloud…

Nobody even bothered to comment on his absence anymore. He'd disappeared only days after Tifa's funeral, taking every piece of materia and effectively making the war redundant. He was presumed to have died a long time ago, and even if he hadn't, he would be an old man by now.

Vincent let his eyes drop to see his own youthful hand, fingers wrapped by a small, thin fist that just showed beneath her formal kimono. Her knuckles were white as she gripped tighter, doing exactly the same to Reno's ever mistreated hand as both men shared an understanding glance.

If it hadn't been so silent, nobody would have heard the door at the other end of the aisle crack open, letting only a slither of sunlight fall onto the threadbare carpet. As it was, only he and Nanaki turned to see the small silhouette framed by the narrow pillar of sunlight. Outside it was a beautiful day, not one cloud in the cerulean sky, and hardly the accepted perfect weather for a funeral. The door was pushed further to allow the sunlight to fill the room and fall across the casket as the newcomer approached.

"I'm sorry I'm late, it's just such a lovely day… I stopped to pick you some flowers."

Now, the small group turned to see the young boy as he smiled brightly, with eyes as bright as cornflowers. He was wearing a simple black suit, and as he passed through the group, they noticed he was addressing the altar, a small bunch of wildflowers clasped between his pale hands. His hair was long, and fell easily down to his waist in soft waves of sunshine gold, and then it was that they heard the bible hit the ground. The priest was wide eyed, his mouth parted in a silent prayer which died slowly on his lips.

"G g… ghost!"

Vincent was about to tell the man that the young boy was most definitely not a ghost although he appeared a little pale, not to mention familiar, when he saw that there was another hand, slightly transparent, wrapped around the flowers and running through the petals. It was as young as the solid ones that lay the bouquet softly onto the body, and again, the boy laughed.

"Yeah, well they _would_ look at you funny, Cid; you're see-through." He whispered, earning another round of disbelieving stares as it was noticed that there was a definite presence hovering over his shoulder. Another young, sapphire eyed blond. "Not to mention much better looking than they all remember."

The ghost that was Cid stood and turned, closely followed by the rest of the group, to look at Shera. She was smiling softly, holding out her hands. Already she appeared ten years younger, and utterly radiant. 

The boy made to push the ghost forward, gaining what would have been a rather amusing, scathing, glower, were it not that the one giving it was a shade. They were taking no notice of anybody else in the room, not even the priest; hiding behind his hastily retrieved bible. Shera moved to meet the outstretched hand, and then her eyes lit up again at something that was said and only she and he could hear.

"Yes, I… understand my love. You look so, so handsome." She said, clearly blushing as the ghostly hand indicated that she go with the boy. They stood like that, somehow conversing in the circle of silent, confused friends before she nodded and turned to the boy. "I can do that?"

He held out a hand, barely larger than her own, and bandaged just below the fabric of his jacket. When Vincent saw this, and the silver line that crossed the palm he realised why the boy seemed so familiar. If one was to cut that fine, braid-waved hair just short enough that it wasn't weighed down, and add a few years of constant stress…

"Cloud?"

Leading the rejuvenated engineer away from the unnecessary sight of her husband's shell, Cloud finally seemed to notice the others. His smile faded a little, and love-in-a-mist eyes flicked briefly to the ground before moving to rest on Vincent's questioning crimson, affirming the suspicions he had voiced involuntarily. They passed around the group of awakening faces as one by one they began to recognise him. 

"Surprised, Valentine?" He replied, the accent unmistakable now they knew who to associate it with. "I promised Cid, I… I'll see you later." With that, he and Shera left through the wide doors unchallenged, she didn't seem at all surprised at the reappearance of someone she barely knew in her youth, happily walking with him into the sunshine.

*

The funeral continued as if nothing had happened, a complete farce as far as Vincent was now concerned, and Shera was found the next day, having peacefully joined her dragon hearted pilot in their Promised Land.

Vincent dropped the daisy wreath back onto the hilt, stepping around the bed of yellow spray… he couldn't exactly recall what they were called, but it would come back to him eventually. Probably when he was trying to concentrate on something else more important.

'Later' had turned out to be more than a decade, another funeral, Marlene's. It had almost been too much that day, until he saw the familiar sight of the still-young swordsman and didn't even question it. For some reason, he was sure he saw the flower girl by his side for a moment, and was later reassured when he caught up with Cloud's delayed disappearing act.

*

"She asked to see the flower lady." Cloud elucidated, before even acknowledging the presence approaching him across the courtyard. Vincent stopped, his outstretched hand falling uselessly to his side. "Aerith… she's doing well, if you wondered."

"What about you Cloud? Why haven't you come to see anybody, except for when they die. What are you afraid of?" 

His mouth snapped shut, shocked. But when Cloud turned around he wasn't smiling, or angry, or upset… he just, stared. Straightening his suit jacket, Vincent composed himself once more and met his empty gaze.

"Is it because you don't want anybody to see that you're not as old as they think you are?"

Cloud shoved his hands in his pockets and started to walk away. Uncertain, Vincent remained where he was, watching that long blonde hair trail out behind the _young_ mercenary like a shroud.

"Come on then." The blond added, as he paused mid-step. "Unless, of course, my appearance has you so overcome with shock and admiration that you somehow lost the ability to think for yourself." 

Vincent fought the urge to shout back an undignified comment and run after him, instead settling on a slow walk. He was shocked, after all, he'd thought that Cloud's appearance all those years ago was just because he was young… and small. But the boy seemed younger now, if anything. He no longer sported dark, sunken eyes or a permanent look that told everyone exactly how many seconds they had left to live. He wanted to ask what Cloud had been doing all those years, but it just wouldn't form itself into a coherent question in his head. 

"I suppose you're right." Cloud answered, sitting down on the back of a bench with his feet on the seat. "I never was very good with them, was I? Some leader, who runs away from all his responsibilities just because he knows they aren't really his at all."

"Them?" 

"People… I don't understand humans. I tried, I… tried being like _him_ for a while. But humans are so strong, aren't they. They walk around for a few years, nearly blind, almost deaf, and totally unable to comprehend anything beyond that which they believe to be reality, and they don't know just how lucky they are, to be happy like that." 

Not understanding, Vincent sat on the bench beside his old friend. "Hojo did this to me, too. But it doesn't stop me from being human, not really." He argued, knowing how hard it had been to realise that small fact. In fact, he was pretty sure Cloud had been the one to tell him as much in the first place. His hands eventually came to rest on his lap, with his eyes. "Just because you're different doesn't mean you can't have friends. Would you really want Hojo to have the final revenge?"

Strands of golden silk slipped across his shoulder as Cloud turned to look away. Neither spoke for a moment as the North Corel train pulled in at the platform behind them. Then Vincent heard the younger man's soft voice as if it were a lot further away.

"Cancer has to be one of the most horrible ways to die, having your cells slowly turn against themselves, unable to stop, until there's no way you can recover. It's caused by the bodies healing mechanism, you know. It isn't really malicious, there's no intent to harm. It just… happens." He said, with no implicit feeling, almost as if reciting from a textbook. Cloud had studied at one of the best universities in the world, Shinra might have been unbelievably selfish, but they knew what to do with his sort of intelligence.

As someone had once said, he might have made a good scientist.

"Is this about Marlene?" Vincent asked, expecting the little shrug that was returned.

"But what if you couldn't get cancer, what if it was so impossible that it would make you a perfect test specimen. Perhaps somebody didn't really understand why his experiments constantly went wrong, and just tried harder until the experiments took second place to revenge. Vincent, Hojo didn't do this to me. Neither did Jenova, although it didn't stop them trying. But I have nothing to be sad about, you know, not for myself. At least I can help in some ways."

And without another word he disappeared, headed toward the train as it prepared to depart. Steam cut off Vincent's view of the exact carriage he was on, but it didn't matter. He had enough to think about already.

*

Now would be his opportunity to discover exactly what Cloud had been talking about, and as he thought, he never even noticed that his feet had carried him to the edge of the city. There was a tent not four hundred metres away; once again, he had fallen upon the correct path. 

The dark canvas moved like waves in the wind, and was obviously unoccupied, since the flap was wide open. Walking around it to see whether or not he'd been left a message he nearly stepped on a small patch of golden flowers, the same kind that surrounded Zack's shrine. Stooping, he pushed aside a handful of the new blooms, unsure of what he was looking for. But he could feel that the earth was recently disturbed, and there was a strong smell of blood. 

Cloud had been leading him here all along. He hadn't realised it, but somehow that was the explanation that made most sense. If that was the case then he would probably be in the city already. Moaning not-so internally as he hiked the shoulder strap further up, Vincent left camp and headed into the darkness.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Author's bored: Of writing. For now… Plus I just had to get all the back-story flashbacky bits over with. 

Gaaah, sooo many flowers. (You can tell that I, appreciated, Aerith as a character, huh. I personally never thought she was that happy, or sweet. But then, I'm weird. ^_^)

Halloo Swordy! Glad you finally found this place, and keep on with Ends of the Earth… 

Next bit's just as trippy. I can't stand fanfics that end up as soap-opera worthy, unoriginal, 50 chapter Angst/Yawnfests. (Cloud looked down into his soup, it reminded him of how his whole life was utterly meaningless, so he left it, and went to suddenly start a pointless and unexplainable relationship with Cid / sulk to himself over Aerith/Zack/Barret's grave….. bleagh.) Especially when they get 300+reviews. (maybe I'm just Jealous ;P) This whole story is my counter to them. Spot the subtle meaningful comments!

Actually, with the previous comment, that is actually far more prevelant in the Gundam stuff. But there are a few here.

50% Proof, 45% Knob Jokes, 5% Cutting Social Commentary.

Hasta la peanuts…


	8. Land of Shame

Chapter 7

__

Nelo Angelo…

Not a day goes by, that I don't realise, 

I know that no one will ever know 

where the flowers go when they are gone.

Not a day goes by, that I don't know that I'm dying.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

The first thing he came across, almost tripping over it in the dark, was what could certainly be described as a corpse. As the shadows began to creep closer, they made false shapes out of tangled roots and crumbled stone; misleading in the claustrophobic space below the plate. Vincent, picking his way among the debris, stepped on something much smoother than the surrounding metal and creeper skeleton. It subsided with a sickening crunch, loud as a gunshot, and astonished he vaulted over it. His leap brought him face to face with a giant spider, its only damage being where his sharp boot had cracked the carapace on its back, oozing thick black fluid. 

A moment of frozen panic allowed him to believe that the thing was not about to attack him, though being at least three times his size it might just not have seen it's small challenger. Then he really saw the creature's left eye mass; pierced through to the brain and …dripping.

Something had killed this thing, very dead, very easily. There was little else to consider when the facts were presented in such clear sequence, which made the conclusion fairly obvious as far as the dark traveller was concerned. Turning further into the shadows, and holding just a little bit tighter to the sword, and his rifle, he ran.

It would have been a blind panic, except that he could make out the shapes of fallen metal around him as he scrambled over twisted branches toward the solid black gates half-swallowed by vegetation. They were shut tight, probably as a strengthening measure to add to the shattered glass perimeter. Hearing the sound of sharp feet tapping along fallen girders at his back he crashed straight into them, cushioning the impact with outstretched hands as his shoulder met the thick metal plating with a painful, sickening thud. There was no way he would open them, rusted as they were, and wound with climbing branches. 

The clattering of many pointed feet grew louder and closer, and louder, tiny black creatures tickling the tiny amount of exposed skin around his face until he brushed them away with a swipe of his claw. He whirled to meet his attacker, sending the larger arachnids flying from his cape as it moved around him like bloody wings.

His first shot beheaded something that he'd rather not try and recognise, spreading chunks of cartilage and slime across his clothes. Seeing this, the other scuttling little things, luminous green eyes sparkling from every crevice, launched themselves at him in a feeding frenzy encouraged by the fresh corpse he'd provided. That had definitely not been his intended result, and completely unlike what he'd seen on entrance to the forest. That spider had been quite alone and untouched.

However, the feeding habits of Mako enhanced creepy-crawlies were pushed a long way from his immediate train of thought. He was in a nest of some sort, where the walls were not too damaged and had been well reinforced by falling rubble. He could see no immediate way in, and the slithering mass had his route of egress nicely cut off. Trying to fight a path through would be the only way to escape, but as he moved forward they began to crawl over his legs and arms, spreading sticky thread as they went. Their feet itched maddeningly as they covered him from head to foot, and his silence was definitely not matched by the enraged protestations in his head. They had quickly switched from 'oh damn, how the hell did I get into this mess' to 'KILL, KILL'

Suddenly, the spiders retreated, washed away like thick tar by a scream that split the sudden hush, amplified by the metal sky.

His back arched too far, bent almost double as the skin of his newly exposed throat stained black. Shedding his suit like a dead skin, he managed to stumble forwards, repelling the things further. His eyes burned red, filling the sockets with a vivid fire. Snarling, the fangs he revealed were growing as quickly as his limbs, which, contorting into wicked claws, seemed to swallow his boots and metal gauntlet. 

He screamed again with the emergence of two black, bony, growths; tearing the skin away from his shoulders in a splash of claret. This second cape was constructed in leather, and tore deep gouges into nearby trees as it extended into ragged crimson wings. Now there were two strange creatures killing of their kind, the spiders and their hopeful hangers-on withdrew entirely, screeching malcontent.

Branches crashed around his self-satisfied smirk, feral eyes lighting them with hell's fire as he cast his gaze around the carnage. Chaos was loosed, and he was ready for a fight. But it was beginning to appear that he would be disappointed, having frightened off the only thing that was prepared to give him even a slight challenge, and the largest he'd already found dead. Killed by something that came before.

The smirk that had almost faded was rekindled, and he laughed, a guttural bark. There was no need to open the gates now that he could tear them apart. Slicing the foot thick sheets of metal with his claws he pushed both arms into the hole, pulling the leaves of shredded steel apart. It groaned as he tore a hole large enough to squeeze through, completely neglecting the clothes and weapons he had left in the nest in exchange for a greater expectation, that of a worthy opponent. He could smell it already, sharp and sweet, not like that of the small things. But it was something he knew, perhaps one of the humans, perhaps a little different. It came from the direction of a building that still remained mostly intact. 

And from the small church, there was a sound he found not too unpleasant, distantly recognised as singing.

"There's a place not that far from here,

Where people go when their dreams have died.

As I walk from this faceless street, 

I must be the last one alive."

Chaos snorted, he was really amused now that the creature he stalked could afford to announce its presence so readily. Although the words were dark, they were sung cheerfully enough, and somewhere in that mind that still belonged to Vincent, he knew the voice and song. 

"Where are you,

You're not with me.

Numb my mind with a fantasy

Watching people live and die on screen,"

The voice was quite beautiful, contrary to their environment and the situation. Ebony clawed feet gouged tracks into the dusty carpeted street, brushing through splinters of glass and long lost belongings, perfectly guided through the gloom. He was still intent on finding the arrogant little creature, but as he listened his bloodlust lessened and his footsteps became less destructive. By the time he reached the splintered wooden door and squeezed through the crack he was able to fit much more easily than expected, though his wings were still difficult. 

"Where are you

You're not with me

Where are you

I'm free."

He felt the stinging in his feet, the skin cream coloured again with scarlet streaks. The church door creaked slightly as it shut behind him. Dust and detritus fell in a trickle from the tangled beams above him, some strange luminescence lighting the inner chapel and a small patch of flowers. Vincent shivered, his own bare arms wrapped around his chest, hands on shoulders. His claw was back, he noted, but not his clothes. An experimental shrug, and his leathery wings slipped down to function as a workable cloak.

What's happening to me? He wondered, following the voice to the centre of the room where hung a pair of thick leather boots, dangling from the fallen rafters. 

"You left me high and dry and changed me.

You lied to me, now I am angry,

And if the sun comes in your room, 

and awakes you from your vanity

You will find me 'cause I'll be 

On top of a mountain,

Pissing on your grave."

A yellow petal tumbled down, to land on his naked, bleeding feet. Vincent didn't bother to look upwards, knowing exactly who it was that Chaos hunted through the tangled old forest. Then he realised with some horror what it was that coated his legs, grey dust, the former inhabitants of Midgar's slums.

"Cloud… You've taken me for granted far too long. What the hell is going on?" He shouted, the sound a strangled interpretation of what he had conceived. Cloud just swung his feet idly and continued singing, more petals floating through the unnatural half light. 

"There's a place from where I just arrived,

And I escaped, the last one alive.

Where are you,

You're not with me."

Staring straight at the boy's heels, Vincent shivered again, the membranes of his bleeding wings not nearly thick enough to keep him warm. "Why am I here?" He repeated, this time more successfully, his deep voice echoing through the room. "Tell me, or…" He really didn't have anything to threaten, he'd still come of his own choice. "Please. I've thought about this and I want to go through with it whatever happens, but tell me what's happening."

"Where are you,

I am free… 

We're going on a journey, like I said. It began a few hundred years ago; perhaps a million, and it will end when there's nothing left to do. If you want an end at all, that is." The boy explained, clarifying absolutely nothing in Vincent's mind. 

"Can't you just be straight for once?" He muttered, "Why can't you tell me straight, do you think I might not want to come with you… I know that it might be dangerous, and that you aren't telling me for a reason, but I think I deserve some sort of explanation."

Cloud was silent for a moment, though he'd heard the quiet irritation in his friend's voice and felt more than a little guilty for not telling him straight. But he couldn't yet, alone, he was still a little frightened of being abandoned at a time of vulnerability. 

"Because I don't feel like explaining everything all the time." He sighed. "If you take a flower apart just to see how the petals fit, you don't see anything, you miss the whole point. Besides, who really wants to know why things happen? If you wish, believe that the universe is so large that nothing really matters at all. Then, you and I are but two anomalies in a billion. So what if I am like this, or you like that; can you explain why humans feel the need for poetry when an explanation in fact is so much simpler? Can _you_ say why you followed me, except for your curiosity?" The boots finally ceased their pendulous motion and disappeared from sight. When Vincent realised that nothing more had happened he stepped back and tilted his head to survey the situation. Cloud was sitting on a beam further up into the roof, golden petals drifting down one by one as he plucked them from their stems. 

He was reminded of a game that even he had played, a while back. It was a completely illogical thing to do, but everyone had to, just once. Just as he had played clock with those silly dandelions on the way to Midgar. She loves me… She loves me not… 

"Who is it?" He asked, trying to sound fairly casual as he took the first jump into the basketwork of collapsed timber. His wings gave him an added amount of stability as he worked his way toward the roof; where Cloud was heading. 

"Hmm, oh, nobody in particular." Cloud hummed dreamily, taking a petal onto his palm and blowing lightly. "Somebody I promised to meet later, is all. Then again; perhaps it is someone very important, if only to me." The petal fluttered upwards chaotically, before settling into a random descent that took it millimetres from Vincent's claw. "Who's to say?"

"Anybody I know?"

"You never really met, if that's what you mean… Thanks for bringing my sword, by the way. But I really won't need it for a while." 

Now he tells me… A morbid smirk crossed his face, which had to be as filthy as the rest of him by now. He'd left it outside anyway, and brought nothing at all to wear. Emerging from the haunted church, he saw Cloud stripping off his coat and shirt. He was standing beside an enormous tree trunk, which seemed to reach all the way up to the nearest section of plate. 

"Here, see if you can do anything with this." Cloud shouted down, waving his black shirt in the air. It was actually quite long, and Vincent was in no position to be choosy. Keeping his wings firmly wrapped around his body as he went, he picked his way across the few remaining clattering tiles. Occasionally he would send one crashing down over the edge to land on the piled ashes below. He would have been far more graceful had he not been attempting to protect his last shred of dignity, whilst also trying not to aggravate the cuts on his feet. 

There was one problem. 

"I don't think I can get it over these." He laughed, having no other alternative. To illustrate his point he stretched the wings a little, turning slightly away in modesty. Cloud stepped closer, not even budging a single tile. Delicately enough to tickle, he ran a cold hand along the smooth joint where the bony growths attached. Vincent bit his lip hard, drawing blood with one fang.

"Shit! Strife… Could you at least warn me before you do that?" He yelped, unable to help himself. This was close to humiliating.

"Sorry Vincent." He pulled away quickly. "You can't do anything about it?" 

"Does it look like I can?" Vincent replied dryly, turning back to glare at the small blond who was chewing a thumbnail in consideration. Vincent noted with some surprise that they were lacquered black. He also noticed that although Cloud was now shirtless he still wasn't exactly bothered about the temperature, he had been mistaken earlier, this was past humiliating. Cloud extricated his thumb with a sudden grin, flourishing a previously concealed dagger. 

"C'mere Vince, I think I have an idea."

You have got to be kidding… Vincent thought, blanching as much as his complexion would allow. He didn't exactly know why he still had wings but he was pretty sure he wanted to keep them, or at least, find a less drastic solution. 

Cloud went right ahead as if he hadn't seen Vincent's reaction. The blade tore easily through the black fabric of his shirt to leave two long gashes from the shoulders and through the hem, then he stepped back towards his friend with an infuriatingly calm expression. Vincent was too relieved to be angry, but he added another mental note to kill the kid when it was all over.

Between them they managed to get the ravaged item of clothing around his wings and pulled down to just above his knees. But Cloud didn't go back to his coat, instead, he took hold of Vincent's metal claw. 

"You still have this thing on?" He asked, the metal was smooth to the touch, and he could feel small clasps holding the plates together. "Why bother…" 

He thought he'd been able to do something about that, with Jenova and everything… oh well, flicking off one of the clasps he prepared to examine the limb. Vincent pulled sharply, trying to escape his hold, but he really wasn't in the mood to argue with the dark haired gunman. His grip, though wonderfully gentle, was not one easily relinquished.

"Please… Is it alright for me to see?" he asked, turning bright blue eyes up in an irrefutable plea. Trapped, Vincent nodded his assent and allowed the clips to be undone.

"You killed that spider-thing, didn't you."

Cloud shrugged. "It was him or me, and he was definitely slower, stupider and uglier." The last clip came undone, and he peeled the plate away to reveal the arm beneath. It had been aching a little, but not nearly enough to prepare Vincent for what he saw… 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Author's Notes: Oh crêpes! I'm writing two things at a time here, while listening to all my weirdo CD's (Which is a damn lot) So the Vast songs seem to have jumped fic ^_^!

Ahem, so, the one at the top is 'I'm dying'… I'm not gonna say how it fits because you're supposed to work it out yourself. The one Cloud's singing in the church, is 'Last one alive' I'm not telling with that one either, everything will be revealed in time. 

I'm going back to writing my own songs soon. I just had to put these two somewhere, I couldn't be bothered to write something of my own for Cloud to sing and Clouderella's getting the songfic vibe happening anyway.

Yoko Kanno no ongaku ga daisuki desu! ^_^

NE Way, hiya 2 minna-san. Swordy, Dina, Nemesis, Darksquall, Sky, Klepto, Lauren, Sekhmet, um, anyone else? I promise that the next chapter will be an epic, not scribbled up from nothing in a couple of spare half hours. Of course, that means it'll be a little while off.

Oh, and Dina, Clouderella, Flames… was to Flames by Vast, try to find it, it's lovely!

This is soooo wrong.

Wrong me! Wrong me! Wrong my brains out!

Adios, Amigas…


	9. Eine Kleine Nacht Musik

Chapter 8

__

Yggdrasil…

The metal fell away from his arm to clatter on the roof, blood rushing through his newly freed limb in a stinging guarantee of pins and needles. Fingers flexed tentatively, the black, scaly skin flaking away with each movement.

Vincent stared at the arm as if it were something unfamiliar. He did not feel the surface cracking as it bled from every joint and the hundreds of wire tracks that riddled his mangled flesh, nor did it bother him. He was more intrigued by the feeling of distance he got when looking at it. There were things that seemed far more real, like cuts in his feet that were still open and bleeding into the dust, and the cold air which bit into him relentlessly. These seemed far more disturbing in his current situation, and he couldn't explain why. His entire body seemed to be changing again, and apart from the wings he seemed now permanently encumbered with, it was more toward humanity.

"It's healing." He stated, still staring at the peeling skin. "Cloud?"

Cloud took hold of the hand again and brushed away some of the black parchment-like flakes; it resembled a terrible burn, and as his fingers touched the raw wound they caused it to blister. Yet he did not stop there. He started to peel the bandage from his own right arm, clean enough in their dank surroundings for Vincent not to worry. Slowly, and mindful of the pain that reflected in the vampire's eyes if not his outward behaviour, he began to clean away the mess.

"We don't really have time for this." He sighed as he worked, tying the white cloth loosely around the worst of the bleeding sores. "I wish I'd thought of it sooner, really. Since there's still a small percentage of dead Jenova cells left in your body, it might need to get worse before it gets better."

Vincent watched the boy tie up his hand. Usually, damage faded fast from his body. But something was recently negating his enhanced healing mechanisms, and he'd been feeling it for a while. 

"When did you do this?" He murmured, choosing that moment to meet shimmering sapphire eyes with his own, for just a second. 

"Me?" Cloud tightened the wrappings and secured it with a small knot before retrieving the gauntlet. His own arm felt a little stiff now, but deciding to ignore himself for the moment he handed the thing back to his companion. Vincent took it with less than an acknowledgement and began to refasten the metal plates. "Where'd you get an idea like that, anyway. Hey…" 

Suddenly turning away from Vincent's struggle with the clips on his gauntlet, Cloud whirled off towards the enormous tree in a flurry of white, the pallor of his hair and naked shoulders somehow catching the barest slivers of moonlight. There seemed to be a large opening in the metal plate above them. Obviously delighted with the fact, or tired of the silence, Cloud crowed aloud, running his arms around as much of the trunk as he could manage.

"I didn't have you reckoned as the tree-hugging sort." Vincent said as he followed on still-sensitive feet. Fiddling with the same clip, he gave up for a moment and watched the skinny blond boy.

"Hmm?" 

"Nothing." He sighed, putting his undamaged palm against the silvery bark just above Cloud's shoulder. It was beautifully smooth, and if it might have been possible, warm. The trunk was easily five feet in diameter, he noted, running fingertips into the small cracks and splits. It was still a good thirty metre climb before they would reach the plate though, and Vincent doubted that he could make it. He didn't hold much hope for Cloud either.

~

The bark dug into his skin as Cloud laid his forehead on the pulse line of the tree. He heard Vincent say something behind him, but it was almost impossible to hear over the sound of the magnificent tree, growing even as he listened. Probably telling him how daft he looked or something. At least this way he didn't have to listen to _them_, so loud he could barely think straight. They shuffled around in the darkness and muttered in hollow voices to themselves about fate, and doom. They all blamed him. 

Oblivious of the swarming diaphanous crowds far below them in the empty streets another presence made itself felt. Vincent's hand came to rest beside his head, and reminded him of the company of another living creature. One that didn't blame him for anything.

"Vincent…" He whispered, dropping his arms a little. He didn't need to cling to life so hard now, the dead were untiring, but barely remained on the physical plane, and their ceaseless accusations faded a little into the background of Vincent's wandering thoughts. "May I ask you something?"

The Daemon that had moved beside him nodded, flexing the heavy wings unconsciously and nearly losing balance. He felt the strong grip on his half-covered arm as he staggered, and was pulled back up the unstable tiles. Normally, his ego might have been a little affronted by the thought that Cloud of all people had caught him. But his situation was far from normal, and he hadn't yet found his balance.

"Thank you… no, I do not mind." He answered, keeping hold of the arm that was still anchored to his wrist. A quick glance at the other man showed that Cloud was feeling a little precarious now, and he couldn't help a small sigh of relief as the grip was not relinquished. 

"What… Oh crap, you know, I feel kinda silly now…" Cloud grinned briefly, but quit when it became obvious that he was fooling neither himself or his friend. "When I found you in that basement, what did you feel?"

Vincent felt another small hand begin to fasten the few clips that he'd not actually managed to fix yet. "About what?" He swallowed, turning his gaze to the ash tree. He was definitely not going to concentrate on that arm. 

"Oh, just things in general. Did you feel out of place?" 

"Oh…" Vincent dropped his gaze further, wondering exactly what he'd expected the question to be. "I was annoyed about being disturbed." He began, trying to remember exactly _what _he could from such a long time ago. "Of course, why anybody spent so much time bothering to find me I don't know."

"The notes said you were a Turk… of course, I thought you'd be a dead one by then." Cloud shrugged, fastening the last clip, but keeping hold of the older man's hand.

"You always were a little strange. What were you planning to do with a corpse?"

"I thought perhaps you could have told me something. It really doesn't matter though." 

Noting the total lack of sarcasm implicit in that statement, Vincent chanced another look toward the delicate blue glow and saw that Cloud was searching the surface for handholds. Then his hand was finally released as the swordsman began to scale the tree. Abandoned again, he guessed due to an attention span just slightly better than that of a five year old, he had no choice but to attempt pursuit.

"You forgot your coat…" 

"Oh, thanks Vincent. I thought it was a little chilly. Could you keep a hold of it?"

Vincent glared as threateningly at the retreating chuckle as he could manage. Then he threw the heavy leather over his shoulder.

"I don't think I can climb… not like this" He mumbled more to himself than anything. His arm was sore, as were his feet, and those wings were altogether too heavy to have him scuttling up a tree like a scalded monkey. 

__

Then fly.

"Cloud?"

No answer was forthcoming but the suggestion, wherever it had come from, seemed to be the only viable option. To fly… he'd never found it difficult when he didn't have to think . He would just stretch his wings like so, and beat the air beneath them.

~

Cloud climbed lazily, letting his mind precede. Slim, nimble fingers found their own handholds, and the rough metal plates on his boots dug effortlessly into the bark. It was second nature to a boy of the mountains, and he seemed only to use the tree as an anchor as he flew toward the starlit tear in the plate above. From where he was he could see the sky emerge, still dark, between the thick tangle of branches. 

Pulling up onto one of the lower limbs, he knelt down on his hands and knees and stared back into the abyss. He scanned the darkness swiftly, confirming that Vincent was nowhere to be seen before he sat back against the trunk to wait. Sitting there, he took the opportunity to orientate himself with the surroundings and found himself already at his intended destination. He was level with the upper city now, somewhere in the center of a large park.

Sector 5 Gardens… a pitiful patch of greenery near the edge of the plate, and one of the only public parks in the whole city. It hadn't changed all that much, and he'd been privately happy to discover that the whole area was untouched by Meteor's destruction. Up here, nobody had died. Here, among his few happy memories, _they_ were silent.

A sudden rush of air disturbed his meditative state, and then he reunited with his jacket as it was unceremoniously slung across his outstretched legs. It landed with a ringing slap, and woke the dozing swordsman further as he struggled to keep his balance on the relatively narrow limb. The steady 'whumph, whumph' sound of beating wings filled his ears, and as he slipped backwards he saw the ever dependable face of Vincent, staring back in what might have been amusement in another universe. 

Cloud's chest connected wirh the branch solidly, knocking the air straight from his lungs as he wrapped his arms around it.

It hardly escaped his attention that he was dangling over a rather familiar fall. Then again, he would probably survive with less than a scratch.

"Yeah, but I'd have to climb all the way back up."

He grinned and almost laughed at Vincent's brief look of concern as he trod air with those red leathery appendages.

"I see you got the hang of it, then." He offered, conversationally. It wasn't as if he'd have trouble hanging there all day, and Vincent didn't look like he was going to offer his help. In fact, he looked slightly bored. So Cloud lifted one arm and waved, tiny scratches leaving only small drops of blood on the bark.

"Bye Bye."

~

Vincent hadn't meant to knock Cloud off, only to return the item of clothing and express his annoyance, he hadn't meant to, really, but that's what happened. Then the blonde boy caught himself.

__

Well, he's all right then, I guess. He thought, before Cloud gave him that annoying smile and started muttering to himself. From what he could gather, Cloud was holding a one sided debate on whether or not he should let go. Not a good thing…

Then he waved. 

"Bye bye."

The lithe, pale, form dropped. One hand took hold of the coat while the other caught the branch and swung the rest of him into mid air. Vincent got the distinct impression that it might not be a good idea to tell the acrobat he had no net. 

Then, Cloud was gone.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Author's notes: Epic? *nervous sweatdrop* did I say that? Well, um, I got sidetracked by alcohol and 'Black Christmas' parties, and drawing. Oh well, I decided to split this part up anyway, since it ended on such a nice little cliffhanger an' all.

This part wasn't as dark as the rest… I wanted some er, light relief I guess. If you can call a rotting arm, lotsa dead people for Cloud to play with, and the fact that Vincent's got bloody great bat wings as light. I guess that gives you some idea of what I have planned. Not to mention the state of my mind. All is not as healthy as it seems.

*if you go down to the woods today…. Be sure of a big surprise ^_^*

oh…. Reviews, please. Lots, or I'm going to inflict more 'humour' on y'all instead of this.

By the way… I think I've read every Seph x Cloud in existance. Come on guys/girlies! Get on with it! I'm looking for original here, like wot I are doin' ~_6.

Oh, and Clouderella is officially on hold. I have a 'real' life to deal with here, as boring as that may seem, and my muses are too busy screwing each other silly and making dumb comments to be any help. 

Ta ta for now….


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